


The Great American Lesbian Search feat. Sarah 'Mac' MacKenzie

by ncruuk



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, JAG, Law & Order: SVU, Stargate SG-1, The West Wing
Genre: Community: femslash_fluff, F/F, imported from LJ, standalone one-shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-23
Updated: 2008-07-19
Packaged: 2018-10-16 20:52:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10579266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncruuk/pseuds/ncruuk
Summary: Once upon a time I noticed that Mac from JAG couldn't easily feature in an f/f fanfic because JAG was somewhat lacking suitable characters for her to interact with.  Which, as so often happens with rhetorical fandom ponderings, resulted in a bit of a random challenge being invented whereby Mac went out across the USA meeting other characters... and thus 'The Great American Lesbian Search' was born.Originally written for and posted to the 'femslash_fluff' LJ community @kimly masterminded for me to have fun in, and for which I'm very, very grateful as without that, I'd not still be writing fic now.Each 'state' is its own standalone story/silliness (although both Kansas and Hawaii ended up with multiple little stories to complete the fun.N.B. These were written in 2006/7 - that's more than a decade ago, not to mention several hundred thousand words of writing ago....





	1. Olivia Benson - Pennsylvania

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Would you like a cheesesteak with that mustard?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mac's off travelling again...and she isn't the only one on the road....

Getting out of her rental car, Olivia surveyed the roadside rest stop - as rest stops went, it wasn't too bad, with a brightly light diner that was obviously a local favourite and a motel which, if the planters full of flowers were anything to go by, would be clean and well kept. The only downside was the bar, which looked like it might attract the sort of customers later that made Olivia very glad she was driving a rental and not a police sedan. There was, in her experience, only one thing worse than staying at one of these places as a single woman, and that was staying at one of these places as an obviously single, female police officer. Reminded of that thought, she quickly slipped her gold shield from her belt to her pocket, before making sure, as she always did, that her hip holster would only be revealed deliberately, and not by her leather jacket flapping. Satisfied that she was no longer advertising her profession too blatantly (there was little she could do about the way she walked or talked, both mannerisms she'd been told repeatedly 'screamed' cop, although personally she didn't see it), she locked the rental and headed for the motel, hoping they had a room.

"What can I get you?" asked the woman of indeterminate age from behind the counter.

"A room, please...double if you've got it..." requested Olivia, discretely assessing the motel entrance - as the flowers outside had suggested, this was a well scrubbed establishment, with the floorboards positively gleaming.

"You expecting company?" asked the woman slightly sarcastically, noticing Olivia had got out of her car alone.

"No...I'm expecting to be able to stretch out in bed..." countered Olivia sharply, knowing from past experience that the single rooms in motels were often little more than broom closets with single beds filling the entire space. She'd learnt the hard way that, if she couldn't sleep in her own bed, given the choice of a single motel room and the car, she'd take the car.

"Room 21, you paying cash?" asked the woman hopefully. Taking the hint, having first glanced at the hand written receipt which had been carefully written out, Olivia decided she could risk paying cash - the receipt looked detailed enough to pass Cragen's scrutiny of her expenses.

"The diner any good?" asked Olivia conversationally as she handed over the approximate amount of bills and waited for her change.

"You eat cheesesteak?"

"Sure...they have a reputation?" ‘No, but she was a New Yorker…her stomach prided itself on eating anything…’

"Best on the highway..." declared the woman, before leaning in confidentially and stage whispering, "...just make sure you ask for American White - Ol' George don't stand for that muck Cheez Whiz..."

"American White, got it..." agreed Olivia, attempting to conceal her smirk - was this for real or some surreal bubble of yokel-dom she'd stumbled on?

"Knew you'd be a fast learner...leave your car out front, your room's three doors down from where you're parked..." declared the woman, before turning her attention away from Olivia to the shelves behind the counter, calling out as she did, "...have a nice day...". Picking up her key, Olivia dutifully turned on her heel and headed back out into the parking lot - as dismissals went, it was fairly clear cut.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"You on your own hon?" asked the server, a grandmotherly sort with just enough grey hair and wrinkles to get away with calling Olivia 'hon', approaching Olivia who had stopped just before the sign saying 'Please wait to be seated'.

"Just one, thank you..." she confirmed, casting her gaze around the diner, noting the interior which seemed little changed from the pictures of the 1950s originals she'd seen on walls of New York diners who had finally given in to the need to refurbish.

"I'll sit you in a booth..." decided the server, bustling over to the corner and setting a menu down with a flourish, "...I'm Margie by the way, and George will be cooking your cheesesteak...you will be having a cheesesteak, right?"

"I'm sure I will..." agreed Olivia, deciding that, as the good New Yorker she was, her stomach could probably cope with a Philly Cheesesteak, even if she'd have possibly preferred a straight steak, or even a burger. Still, her first rule of motel stops when 'on duty' had always been blend in, and, if eating a Philly Cheesesteak for dinner was the way forward...she'd suffered worse for the sake of her shield.....

"I'll be right back..." declared Margie, before disappearing, presumably to confirm that the couple in the next booth were having cheesesteaks...with White American if they knew what was best for them.

* * *

 

 

"...I'll just go get you a menu..." Olivia's thoughtful musings about side orders and drinks (were there really that many flavours of malt shake?) were interrupted by Margie's abrupt return, this time with a tall brunette who looked just as out of place in the diner as Olivia felt.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but we're not together..." reasoned the newcomer, looking apologetically at Olivia when it became aparent that Margie was going to seat them at the same table, in a booth no less!

"I know that dear, but there's no harm you both sitting in the same place, 'specially when those young 'uns from next door come in. Two ladies like you sitting separately? You'll be slobbered on 'til Christmas..."

"I don't mind..." interrupted Olivia gamely, spotting the apprehension in the brunette's face, her conscience obviously battling with natural curiosity about Olivia and a long ingrained desire and need for distance and privacy.

"That's settled then...you don't need me to introduce you..." decided Margie, before once again, hustling off in the direction of the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

"She's a bit..." Olivia trailed off with her description as she found herself politely trying to stand up, only for the booth's table to stop her part way up.

"Forceful?" speculated the brunette, holding her purse in front of her as she eyed the booth like it was a map of a military campaign, with the ketchup assuming strategic importance...

"Friendly...would you like to join me?" asked Olivia politely, now she'd managed to untangle her legs from the booth and actually stand up, enabling her to gesture to the vacant side of the table.

"Don't take this the wrong way..." began the brunette, eying Olivia with a gaze that was an interesting combination of blatant ogling and suspicious scrutiny.

"But how do you know I'm not an axe-murder?" joked Olivia, shoving her hands in her jeans pockets, trying not to smirk too much.

"Or something..."

"Would this help?" asked Olivia helpfully, pulling her badge from her pocket and holding it out for the brunette to study.

"How do you know I'm not an axe-murder Detective?" asked the brunette smoothly, smiling warmly nevertheless and sliding into the booth. Margie was right, slobbering youths were not in her evening's plan.

"Because Colonel..." Olivia enjoyed the look of surprise that crossed her companion's face, "...I saw you drive up and I doubt, somehow, that if you were an axe-murder, the Navy would let you drive around one of its cars..."

"Touché..." conceded Mac humorously, holding out her hand in greeting, "...Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, JAG Corps..."

"Detective Olivia Benson, NYPD SVU..." replied Olivia, shaking the offered hand and once again finding herself unable to conceal her grin.

"You seem to find life very amusing Detective Benson..." observed Mac, wondering how her impromptu dinner companion would react.

"I'm just guessing that, under that leather jacket you're wearing your service weapon?" asked Olivia, taking a sip of her soda. wondering if her new friend would spot what was amusing her so. She did.

"You've got yours on your right hip, haven't you?" queried Mac, recalling seeing the subtle shifting of weight when the Detective stood, revealing to another woman well versed at wearing concealed weapons how carefully the Detective was trying to ensure the tell-tale bulge of a hip holster didn't show.

"Guilty as charged...think Margie will be upset to learn we're not exactly damsels in distress?"

"I won't tell..."

"Good...so, do I call you Colonel all night?" asked Olivia boldly, deciding that maybe, this evening might not be as dull as she'd originally feared.

"Depends...do I get to call you something other than Detective?" If Mac's question bordered on the flirtation, Olivia decided not to comment, other than saying,

"Olivia...but I'm guessing you have some sort of nickname?"

"How did you know?"

"Sarah doesn't seem to fit with the Colonel I saw earlier..."

"Mac...everyone calls me Mac..."

"Everyone?" teased Olivia, raising her eyebrow slightly.

"Everyone in a diner..." amended Mac, blushing ever so slightly, all too aware where the one place she liked people to call her 'Sarah' was...a place she was entirely certain Olivia was also aware of.

"You eat cheesesteak?" asked Olivia suddenly, spotting Margie begin to weave her way through the tables towards them.

"Philly Cheesesteak? Sure..." agreed Mac, fleetingly catching a mental image of Harm wincing at her tucking into a vegetable free meal, complete with artificial cheese and several ounces of red, dead, meat.

"It's the House Special..." muttered Olivia quickly, before looking up to see Margie looking expectantly at them.

"What'll it be gals?"

"Two Philly Cheesesteaks..." began Mac, only to be interrupted by Olivia, who added,

"...with White American..."

"No, one..." Mac got no further as Olivia cut off her correction with a deftly placed heel to Mac's toe, startling the Marine into silence.

"...One malt for me and..." Trusting Mac not to go back and correct her again, Olivia smiled sweetly at Mac, prompting her to add,

"...I'll have a diet cola...oh, and two portions of fries...." she concluded, surprised at the beaming smile Margie was now sporting.

"A great order gals, George will really enjoy whipping that up for you..." she enthused, before bustling off to the kitchen, shouting their order as she went.

"You stamped on my foot!" protested Mac, attempting to shoot a dirty look at Olivia, but struggling to given how infectious Margie's good natured exuberance was.

"I did, and I'm sorry...." confessed Olivia, looking like she was attempting to look sheepish.

"You're lucky I don't mind White American..."

"I hate the stuff..."

"So why'd you order two?"

"The woman at the motel didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"George, in the kitchen...apparently he doesn't do Cheez Whizz...."

"So you ordered a cheesesteak with a cheese you hate?" asked Mac, impressed.

"I was given the impression that not ordering a cheesesteak was about the biggest crime around here....and I'm hungry..." whined Olivia playfully, before continuing, "...and anyway, if my stomach can handle streetdogs..."

"I'm just impressed you avoided the onions..." teased Mac, enjoying their teasing, despite the surrealness of their situation - miles from anywhere really, on a highway in the middle of Pennsylvania.

"I'm saving myself for the mustard..."

"You'd better hope I leave you some..."

"Hey, you said you didn't mind White American...I get mustard priority!" protested Olivia, wondering if Mac knew how flirtatious this conversation was feeling for Olivia.

"No, you lose your priority for mustard due to that foot stomping..." groused Mac teasingly, before continuing, "...I don't know how you do it in New York, but where I come from, we're a little more delicate in our footsie..."

"And where do you come from?" asked Olivia curiously, deciding for the moment to leave aside the footsie comment.

"D.C., at least, that's where I've been posted for the last few years..."

"Pentagon?"

"No, Judge Advocate General's Office, I'm a Marine Lawyer..." confessed Mac, wondering how this NYPD detective would react to her profession. To her surprise, she got an amused grin. "You find attorneys amusing?"

"Nope..." Olivia was trying for a straight face, really she was.

"But?"

"You're a military ADA right?"

"Of sorts..." confirmed Mac, wondering what was amusing her companion.

"I, uh, well, my partner would say..." suddenly, Olivia found herself tongue tied in a way that Mac found rather adorable.

"You have a thing for ADAs?" guessed Mac, rather enjoying the confessional blush that was spreading across her companion's face.

"Will it end our dinner conversation if I confess?"

"Depends, I'm a little partial to dark blue uniforms..."

"I occasionally wear my dress uniform..."

"Good to know..." muttered Mac, any further teasing or flirtation halted by the return of Margie, with a tray laden down with cheesesteaks, fries and iced glasses full of malts and soda.

"Here you go gals..." she pronounced, unloading the tray and leaving them once again to sort out their food as two more new arrivals were waiting at her 'stop sign'.

"So that's a cheesesteak..." concluded Olivia, inspecting her dinner for the first time.

"Yeah..." agreed Mac, picking her sandwich up and taking a large bite....

"Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly, dropping her cheesesteak and surveying her top which, miraculously, had managed to avoid getting splattered with grease, before directing a very dirty look at Olivia.

"What?" asked the detective, full of innocence, carefully taking a much smaller bite of her own cheesesteak, carefully slathered in mustard, before adding,

"Anyone would think you'd never played footsie before...Sarah"


	2. Colorado - Elizabeth Weir

“Coates? Get me Mackenzie!” shouted Admiral A.J. Chedwiggen even as he was hanging up the telephone having listened to perhaps one too many a crazy request from the Secretary of the Navy.

 

“You wanted to see me Sir?” asked Colonel Sarah 'Mac' Mackenzie almost immediately, having been standing at Petty Officer Coates' desk when his call came.

 

“Shut the door Mac...” he instructed, tossing his reading glasses onto his desk, “...have a seat...” he continued, his tone warming even as it turned weary.

 

“Is there a problem Sir?” asked Mac, boldly, aware thanks to Coates that he'd just been on the phone with the SecNav.

 

“Only that the SecNav seems to have lost what was left of his mind...” mused the Admiral, not quite sure who he was supposed to explain this latest case to Mac.

 

“Sir?”

 

“I need you to go to Cheyenne Mountain to preside at a Courts Martial for a Marine...” began Chedwiggen, still not quite believing the confusing chain of events that had resulted in the US Marine Corp finding itself in this situation.

 

“Sir?” Now Mac really was confused – since when did the JAG get involved in assigning Presiding Officers for Courts Martial?

 

“The classified programme at Cheyenne Mountain has recently had one Elizabeth Weir appointed as the civilian head of an USAF led international military and civilian team who work with aliens...” he trailed off, pausing to give her time to untangle that particularly messy scenario whilst also enjoying being able to finally say something so unbelievable he actually managed to cause his normally efficient and unshakable Chief of Staff to look surprised, for a moment at least, before she schooled her features and asked reasonably,

 

“Why can't a Presiding Officer be found through the usual channels Sir?” Mac was determined not to reveal her surprise at discovering that particular diplomat reappearing in her life...and the safest way to achieve that was to stick to procedural topics.

 

“Because you're the only member of the military legal community with fluent Russian, the requisite security clearance and no prior contact with the Stargate Programme...” explained the Admiral, virtually repeating verbatim what the SecNav had told him when he'd asked the same question.

 

“When do I leave Sir?” asked Mac, squaring her shoulders, her gaze levelling on her Boss as she calmly accepted where she was heading.

 

“Be at Andrews at 2200, you're on TAD to Colorado Colonel...” and some place called PXY 729 too, thought Chedwiggen as he dismissed Mac, deciding the less he knew about this case the easier he would probably find it to understand what was happening.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Colonel Mackenzie?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I'm Sergeant Siler, welcome to Colorado; do you have any more bags Ma'am?”

 

“No, just these...” explained Mac, gesturing to the briefcase and sea bag – even before years of practice as a Marine she'd always been able to pack quickly and travel light.

 

“Airman Halls will take those for you Ma'am...” said Siler as the aforementioned Airman stepped forward to relieve Mac of her luggage before leading them across the tarmac to the waiting Hummer convoy which would take them back to Cheyenne Mountain.

 

“Is this your first time visiting the Mountain Ma'am?” asked Siler as the driver directed them to the Base.

 

“Yes, and I don't quite know what to expect...” admitted Mac honestly, knowing nothing more about the Base or the case than she did when she'd left the Admiral's office hours earlier, not to mention how Elizabeth would react.

 

“Don't worry Ma'am, no one ever does...” reassured Sergeant Siler cheerfully before settling into silence – it wasn't his place to enlighten the JAG Officer and anyway, even if had been, he wasn't sure he'd know what else to say...

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Welcome to Cheyenne Mountain Colonel...” began Elizabeth Weir, only to tail off as she realised that the calm brunette standing before her, sent to represent and uphold military justice, was not a totally strange or unknown face.

 

“Thank you, Doctor Weir...” replied Mac, far more used to not showing her reactions when familiar faces turned up in unfamiliar places than most Colonels, and thus able to school her reaction in time.

 

“You've been assigned some quarters I trust?” continued Elizabeth, deciding to stick to the 'safe' topics of domestic matters for as long as possible...

 

“Yes, thank you...” Mac trailed off, unsure what else to add, at least, not without commenting on the extravagant opulence of the Base VIP quarters being somewhat grander than was either necessary for a JAG Officer or standard for a US Military Base.

 

“Good... I'm not sure whether to offer the nickel tour now or at a more conventional hour...” began Elizabeth, uncertain whether 4 am was appropriate or practical for her guest.

 

“Whatever works best for you and the Base, Ma'am,” volunteered Mac, glad of the few hours sleep she had managed to catch during her transport from D.C., not to mention being more than just slightly curious as to what was happening to necessitate the Programme's Civilian Head being on base at such an un-godly hour yet seemingly free to act as tour guide.

 

“Then we may as well start – depending how well I do you can always get a 'top-up' from SG1 when they return from PY7-3XA,” concluded Elizabeth, heading for her office door.

 

“PY7-3XA Ma'am?”

 

“Call me Elizabeth... and it's a neutral planet on the edge of Anubis' home territory with sufficiently advanced satellite technology for them to be prepared to undertake some passive observation of ship movements and stellar phenomena that we can use as intelligence...” explained Elizabeth easily, wondering what sort of reaction that news would provoke, unable to listen to to Sarah call her anything else.

 

“I'm Mac... and is that Anubis as in the Egyptian God of Mummification?”

 

“You know your Egyptology...” observed Elizabeth, desperate to ask why she wasn't known as 'Sarah' this time but knowing now wasn't the moment, “...and you are right, in a manner of speaking, for the Egyptian Gods are actually Goa'uld, a parasitic race of alien creatures...” and, leading Mac out of her office, Elizabeth began to give Mac a potted history of the Stargate Programme and Earth's neighbourhood aliens as she showed off her Base.

 

* * *

 

 

“...brings us back to your Quarters,” concluded Elizabeth some two hours later, having shown Mac around the important bits (Gate Room, Control Room, Briefing Room, Infirmary etc.) and only been interrupted by two off-world activations, only one of which was unexpected.

 

“Not that I'll ever find all that on my own again, but thank you,” said Mac, her usually good sense of geography and direction completely deserting her in this windowless underground labyrinth, not to mention the fact that she almost lost track of time, something she knew to be virtually impossible, such was the amazing and truly mind-blowing information she'd been asked to absorb as they toured the facility.

 

“Only Siler and SG1 seem to avoid getting lost around here, so don't worry about it – everyone's managed to get pretty good at giving comprehensible directions...” Elizabeth had also recognised that Mac was sufficiently shrewd an Officer to have worked out that she wouldn't actually have the opportunity to get lost since at no point would she be walking around the Base unescorted. She may be 'friendly' and have clearance to know about some of the SGC's most secret of secrets, but that didn't equate to total freedom, something that Mac found herself grateful for for the first time since her very first visit to the Enterprise Aircraft Carrier, although now, after numerous adventures, the 'Big E' was something of an open book to her. Right now, Mac wasn't sure if she wanted to very be in the position to get equally well acquainted with the SGC, or whether one 'alien contact' would be enough to last her whole career.

 

“Good to know...” agreed Mac politely, wondering if whatever Elizabeth had obviously been waiting for had happened yet.

 

“I'll let you settle in properly then...” mused Elizabeth, finding she had many unasked questions she wished to pose to her latest guest, starting with 'What the Hell?' but knowing that a surveillance camera covered corridor was not the place to start asking them.

 

“My primary objective is testing Air Force coffee...” declared Mac, before deciding to gamble by asking, “...can I make you a cup Dr. Weir?”

 

“Why, that would be lovely... thank you Colonel Mackenize....”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Were you a Marine then too, Sarah?” Try as she might, Elizabeth was unable to keep the bitterness out of her tone when, coffee long finished, she finally asked the first of many burning questions.

 

“Elizabeth?” startled, Mac found herself glancing towards the obvious security cameras.

 

“The cameras only run when you're not in the room, since you're not regarded as a threat to the SGC,” explained Elizabeth, managing to suppress her anger enough to be informative and icily civil.

 

“But you could have me reclassified as a threat, couldn't you?” asked Mac reasonably, as much as a stalling tactic whilst she formulated her answer as it was a legitimate questions she wanted Elizabeth to answer.

 

“Yes, but I won't...” At Mac's surprised look, Elizabeth softened her tone, explaining, “I may still be angry and, dare I say it, hurt at what happened but I'm neither vindictive nor callous enough to ruin your career or time on the Base by doing that to you, Sarah...”

 

“I know...” agreed Mac, smiling softly when she heard Elizabeth use her first name warmly after all these years.

 

“Why didn't you tell me?” This time, Elizabeth's voice was warm and genuine, with curiosity being the main reason for asking the question, rather than bitterness.

 

“That I was a Marine?”

 

“Yes... you lied to me...”

 

“I omitted to tell you the truth, yes... but I never lied to you Elizabeth, about anything,” corrected Mac firmly, putting their empty coffee mugs back by the kettle.

 

“Why didn't you tell me?”

 

“I was ordered not to... the Dean knew your views on the military and didn't think you would let me be in the Class if you knew I was a Marine...”

 

“The Dean was right... but why take the Class at all?” asked Elizabeth, puzzled as to why her lecture series about International Diplomacy, rumoured to be one of the toughest in the Law School at the time, and which was for extra credit only, was so important that the Dean told Sarah not to admit to her military career.

 

“It was one of the reasons I was able to go to Duke – you weren't giving the lectures at any other university then...”

 

“The Marines thought I was a good reason to go to Duke?”

 

“Face it Elizabeth, you were causing more than a few heads to turn in the State Department and the Pentagon... it was, I think, seen as a good opportunity to try to understand your position...” Mac broke out into a genuine grin, “... not to mention being a great course...”

 

“Thank you... you were sent to spy on me?” Elizabeth had instinctively and politely accepted the compliment without really letting it interrupt her questioning.

 

“No... I was just the right recruit at the right time with the right interests in international law to be able to have the opportunity to study with the best, which is you Elizabeth. I was never asked to explain anything to anyone...” Mac could see she hadn't explained herself terribly well, “...everyone at State and the Pentagon was reading your work as they'd recognised that you were our best negotiator; JAG Officers end up upholding the diplomatic and legal standards so it made sense to the Marines not to pass up the opportunity for one of their Officers to study your work first hand...and I was the lucky Marine...” finished Mac almost shyly.

 

“So our...?” Elizabeth left the question hanging, unsure what to call it now, years later.

 

“Was entirely private and very much my own personal desire.”

 

“So you weren't...?”

 

“Wasn't ordered to seduce you on your last weekend before disappearing off somewhere? Certainly not! Elizabeth...” Mac sat down on the couch next to her one-time lover, “...only you and I know about that weekend... unless you told anyone?” asked Mac, suddenly nervous.

 

“No! I mean, I didn't have time to tell anyone, and by the time I got back...” Elizabeth trailed off.

 

“I had graduated and gone.”

 

“Where did you go?”

 

“I was posted, to ships initially before ending up in the JAG's office in Falls Church... but I live in Georgetown. Where did you go?” she countered, remembering the rushed note, scribbled on the back of a coffee shop receipt, that Elizabeth had left for her with her secretary the day after their return from mid term break to find Elizabeth's lectures cancelled.

 

“Moscow, then North Korea....”

 

“Exotic... we probably ended up involved in some of the same situations...you for the neutrals, me for the Marines...” mused Mac thoughtfully.

 

“Probably...” agreed Elizabeth philosophically, finding herself much calmer now she'd voiced her initial anger at Sarah's deception years ago.

 

“Your attitude to us military types has changed then...” continued Mac conversationally, gradually shifting back to the same light tone of friendship they'd

developed all those years ago which she hoped they could recover, despite the shock for Elizabeth of discovering Mac's military career.

 

“That's a very long story that...” Elizabeth was unable to finish her comment as she was interrupted by the wailing sirens that announced an 'unscheduled off-world activation,' closely followed by a voice coming over the speakers requesting her presence.

 

“You can tell me some other time...” instructed Mac, smiling at Elizabeth to reassure her she wasn't offended – indeed, something told Mac that this arrival of whomever from wherever was probably the real reason Elizabeth had found herself on Base at 4am with the time on her hands to show Mac around.

 

“I'd like that...” agreed Elizabeth, surprising herself with how genuinely she meant it, and how easily it was to remember everything from all those years ago, memories she had subsequently learnt to forget or ignore as, with a hectic globe-trotting career she'd found herself with little time for romance, especially of the female kind.

 

“Haven't you got a planet to go save or something?” guessed Mac, finding herself wondering at the thoughtful look she was seeing on Elizabeth's face, wondering if it was an echo of Mac's thoughts...thoughts about wanting to see what would happen if they found themselves alone and free again, free to forget responsibilities and just delight in each other's company, re-creating the memories of years past...

 

“Two actually... not including this one...” agreed Elizabeth, grinning with amusement as she listened to what she'd just said, realising the absurdity of the statement.

 

“And you're still here why?” asked Mac, her head tilting as she considered Elizabeth's face carefully, noting the inevitable signs of the worries and stresses of the last few years but also the intelligent sparkle in eyes that were looking at Mac far too knowingly.

 

“You always did ask the difficult questions...” teased Elizabeth, heading towards the door, knowing she would be needing to run through the corridors if she didn't leave quickly.

 

“Go...” instructed Mac, gesturing to the door before adding, “...but come back this time...please?”

 

“Will I be welcome?” Suddenly, Elizabeth found the atmosphere tense between them and her confidence lost.

 

“Of course... now... save the planet please?” It was a request Mac never thought she would have ever made prior to today... and one Elizabeth was only too glad to fulfil, if for no other reason than it would mean she would be back, coffee in hand, enjoying the company of Sarah Mackenzie, and who knows...maybe they would be able to recreate the past after all...


	3. Alabama - Kate Harper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alabama's gotten me so upset....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about Alabama, except that Fort Rucker does exist and is the US Army Helicopter Centre. I know nothing about Marine One, but it seems kinda plausible so please, go with me on this one?
> 
> SPOILERS/SEASON CONTEXT: Mac's a Lt Colonel working in D.C. at JAG still...but it's after Bartlett's second term has ended, so Kate's back in the Navy...

There was a song, thought Mac angrily as she tried desperately not to pace through the 'waiting room' at Fort Rucker Army Base in deepest Alabama (so deep she was almost in Florida which, when she was wearing her warmer uniform was not a good thing), which about summed up her mood...."Alabama's gotten me so upset..." was how it goes, and it was right. Alabama had gotten Mac so upset, but, if she was being objective, it wasn't exactly the State's fault.

Lieutenant Roberts was, it was universally acknowledged, a bit of a genius when it came to deciphering flight timetables and routing personnel around the country and world. There had been numerous occasions when he'd somehow managed to conjure routes out of seemingly thin air and get Mac from one side of the country to another when everyone else was saying it was impossible, and that was something Mac was particularly grateful for. He'd even done it this time, even if it was involving helicopter flights and ground time at Army bases...not the usual hang out for a Marine JAG officer. Fortunately, being a Colonel helped...

So, here she was, standing around on the tarmac at Fort Rucker, attracting discreet stares from the Army crews that were milling around as all try to fathom exactly why a Marine Colonel was being 'expressed' through their base at 2am on a unseasonably hot sticky night, wearing her heavyweight uniform, waiting for her next helicopter.

Needing to channel her impatience into something other than pacing, Mac began to pay attention to her surroundings, noticing the distinctive silhouettes of the helicopters sitting on the tarmac stretching out into the inky blackness as the floodlights receded. She also paid attention to her fellow transfers, thankful at least that, in the half light of the floodlights, her Marine Greens, from a distance, didn't look too different from the Army greens the majority of her fellow officers were wearing, unlike the Navy Commander who...

"Kate?" Mac called the name so quietly it was carried on a breath, unwilling to utter the thought any louder for fear of embarrassment. Even if it was Kate, it may not be...she was so like Clayton in that regard.

Hearing her first name, which was unusual when she was wearing this uniform, Kate Harper, sometime Commander of the United States Navy and former Deputy National Security Advisor to President Bartlet turned to see who was calling her.

"Mac?" she speculated, recognising the silhouette of a woman she could once identify by touch alone.

"Kate!" Enthusiastically, Mac started to stride towards the tall blonde Commander, before checking her first stride and resuming her course at a more seemly, 'Colonel's' pace. They both had reputations that, after a lifetime of careful construction, could still be knocked over with the lightest of contact from the wrong source.

"Mac..." Where once she would have whispered 'Sarah' as they lay together on the same pillow, Kate now had to force herself to remember to use the nickname that was shared with so many. It was just a relief that, by some miracle of fate, they were of equivalent rank...after everything they'd shared and done together, she really didn't think they'd be able to salute each other with a straight face.

"Commander..." announced Mac formally, extending her hand in greeting, as their rank and etiquette dictated, although the sparkle in her eye and quirk of her lips told Kate that the Marine's thoughts had mirrored her own exactly.

"Colonel..." greeted Kate, shaking the offered hand with a firm grasp before lightly grazing Mac's palm with her fingernails. It was a discreet gesture, easily dismissed or denied if the intervening years and ranks had changed things, but judging by the way Mac's smile just got wider and brighter, Kate was certain things hadn't.

"Fancy meeting you here..." teased Mac, reluctantly letting go of Kate's hand and forcing herself not to gaze longingly into those wonderful eyes that only revealed their true spectrum of emotions and opinions to a very select few...Kate Harper may now be a Commander and a international diplomat of some respect and standing, but, thought Mac, surveying her old friend with a caring critical eye, some things never changed...including, it seemed, her membership of that select few.

"Alabama huh? Has it gotten you upset?" teased Kate, quoting the song lyric Mac had been remembering earlier.

"It was you!" exclaimed Mac, suddenly remembering why it was that she could recall that lyrics to that particular Nina Simone song word for word despite not owning any of that lady's works.

"What was me?" asked Kate, amused at the accusation, but also greatly relieved that somehow they'd managed to pick up their conversation as if the recent decade had never happened.

"Mississippi Goddam...the song? It's the only Nina Simone song I know all the words to...you had it..." Mac trailed off as she remembered that long summer when her memories were not of the base she'd been posted to, nor the job she was doing, but instead, lying in a hammock with Kate, listening to Nina Simone songs and...

"I still do..." admitted Kate, recalling how the passionate song about civil rights was the only song Mac could ever recognise immediately, being of such a different musical colour and tone to the rest of the songs on that particular album.

"Really?" Mac was amazed...she couldn't remember what music she'd listened to from her own collection that summer.

"Only now it's on my IPOD..." explained Kate sheepishly, extracting the sleek player from her pocket.

"You always hated technology..." recalled Mac, remembering Kate's protestations about having to replace her beloved record player with a CD system.

"You always hated helicopters..." recalled Kate, remembering Mac's terror following her first exercises involving helicopters.

"I've learnt to like them..." admitted Mac, remembering all the times she'd been so relieved to hear the thump thump of a helicopter rotor as the cavalry arrived to rescue her.

"I've learnt to like technology..." admitted Kate, remembering all the times she'd managed to extricate herself from a difficult situation because she had the better gizmos in the field or the better satellites in space taking photographs...

"Learnt to like Michael?" asked Mac curiously, wondering if Kate would remember the silly code they'd developed when they'd attempted to keep in touch through far from private communication channels from various ships and bases around the world.

"No, still keen on William..." replied Kate, grinning when she saw Mac's confirming grin. Michael or Mark was their private euphemism for 'men', William or Walter for 'women', "...you?" asked Kate, wanting confirmation.

"Walter..." confirmed Mac, wondering if she was looking as much like a lovesick cadet as she felt.

"Ah...good to know..." Rarely a woman of many words in small talk situations, Kate quickly ran out of things to say, but Mac didn't mind...she was used to the blonde woman's sudden spurts of conversation.

"So, what brings you to Fort Rucker?" asked Mac, curious about the distinguished Commander's presence on the tarmac. Surely she was in transit too?

"Attempting to get to D.C. before Christmas...you?"

"Same...though I wish I could do it with fewer bases..." admitted Mac, consulting her inner clock and sighing when she realised how late it was.

"How long ago were we supposed to leave?" asked Kate, used to Mac's time keeping skills and assuming that, if they were both heading to D.C., they were probably routed on the same flight.

"17 minutes..."

"Ah..." Before Kate could get much further, an Army Captain sprinted up to her.

"Ma'am?" he asked nervously, far more nervously than he would have been if he was talking to Mac, his nerves being derived from the fact that he was talking to the former Deputy National Security Advisor rather than a Navy Commander.

"Yes?"

"We've laid on a chopper for you Ma'am..." he explained, not breaking from his at attention stance.

"Are there two seats on it?" asked Kate sharply, quickly inferring what was going on. Their original flight had been cancelled, but they were moving her out anyway. She wasn't the sort of person Base Commanders liked having hanging around on their bases for any longer than was strictly necessary.

"Two seats Ma'am?" If he was surprised he tried his best not to show it...he was under strict instructions from his C.O.: this woman had to be got off the base ASAP...they were to give her the damn helicopter if necessary....

"Colonel Mackenzie will be coming too..." decided Kate suddenly, not liking the idea of leaving Sarah in Alabama.

"Yes Ma'am...This way Ma'am?" And, with the courtesy traditional across all branches of service, he escorted the two ladies across the tarmac towards a powering up helicopter.

"I think I've discovered the one person more unpopular than a JAG investigator!" exclaimed Mac, amused at the service Kate was getting but also extremely grateful she was being swept along with it. Alabama was probably a lovely state, but her apartment in D.C. was nicer...

"I always was special..." teased Kate, before clamping her mouth shut. It was too easy to flirt with Sarah, always had been...

"I know..." began Sarah, before coming to exactly the same conclusion. With a quick scramble and sarcastic, "...gotta love the Navy hey Captain?" she'd managed to distract the Captain's curiosity away from the potentially personal focus of their banter and onto the traditional inter-service rivalry.

"HooRah Ma'am..." confirmed the Captain weakly, not wanting to disagree with the Marine Colonel...at least the Marines got stuck into the dirt, but not exactly wanting to disagree with Commander Harper either.

"Have a good flight Ma'am..." he announced, coming to a halt at the base of the steps up into the plush aircraft, which Kate immediately recognised.

"Thank you Captain..." she said, returning his salute and waiting until he'd disappeared into the darkness before smiling a relaxed smile Mac hadn't seen for years.

"Ready?" asked Kate, gesturing for Mac to precede her up the steps.

"For what?" asked Mac, knowing that Kate could, if she really wanted to, play the most spectacular practical jokes on people. Mac had learnt at a very early point in their relationship to stay on her guard...if only so as to be able to take notes for when she exacted her revenge....

"Marine One...they really wanted to get rid of me..." observed Kate, drawing Mac's attention to the specifics of the aircraft that was waiting for them.

" _The_ Marine One?" asked Mac, amazed.

"There are several....but I'm guessing this one's been down here for a service..." explained Kate, gesturing for Mac to head up the stairs...

"Welcome aboard Commander..." greeted the steward as they entered the cabin, recognising her.

"Good to see you again Tom..." replied Kate, recognising the steward cum crew chief who she'd got to vaguely know in her time working and riding around the world for and with President Bartlett.

"Colonel, welcome to one of the Marine One's Ma'am..." he acknowledged formally, ushering Mac into the plush seating area and taking her cover and case from her.

"Thank you..." Mac was dumbstruck....how...why...wha...?

"What's happening Tom?" asked Kate sharply, as he took her cover and case.

"We were down for refit and service Ma'am...we were going to fly up to Andrews empty, but when we heard you were being bumped to the 6am flight into Georgia..."

"Thank you..."

"The crew's bedded down at the back Ma'am, the ground and flight crews are doing the refuellings..." explained Tom nervously as the engines changed in pitch slightly, signalling that everything was ready for departure.

"We'll be fine on our own Tom, go get some sleep..." instructed Kate firmly yet kindly, smiling at the Lieutenant who obediently came to attention before heading to his bunk at the back, leaving the two senior officers the entire cabin to themselves.

"So...what do you think?" asked Kate, collapsing into one of the seats and gesturing that Mac should be sitting down too.

"This is for real?" asked Mac, still in shock.

"Beats a limo to the Prom..." agreed Kate, looking around her at their comfortable settings before gingerly taking Sarah's hand once more.

"Is this ok?" she asked nervously.

"You know the rules..." warned Sarah softly, locking her eyes with Kate's which were suddenly clouded with emotions, but not moving her hand.

"There's no one going to move until we land to refuel...and they won't come in here..." explained Kate, knowing that the crew only entered the cabin in an emergency, being too used to having the President travelling with his Senior Staff.

"It's very ok..." confirmed Sarah, returning Kate's earlier gesture of running her fingernails lightly down Kate's palm.

"You live in D.C. now?" asked Kate softly, wishing she had the confidence and daring to do more than hold hands, but knowing that she wouldn't.

"Georgetown...you?"

"Alexandria..."

"Close enough..."

"Dinner?" asked Sarah shyly.

"Can you cook yet?" asked Kate teasingly, remembering earlier times together.

"My breakfasts have improved..." murmured Sarah, only for it to finish in a yawn. The gentle thumping of the engines and the lateness of the hour (or earliness of the morning) was lulling her into sleep, especially with the gentle caress of Kate's fingers on her hand.

"Is that an invitation?" asked Kate, not wanting to presume but suddenly finding herself eagerly hoping it was.

"Bring blueberries and I'll make you pancakes..." yawned Sarah once more, before deciding she needed to sleep.

"Night night squid..." the endearment, unsaid in that affectionate tone for so long, slipped out instinctually as Sarah automatically settled against the blonde's lean and long body, re-finding the comfortable place she'd spent so many hours nestled in, protected by the loving embrace of Kate...

"G'night marine..." Kate's response was just as heartfelt and just as instinctual, but Sarah never heard it. She was already asleep, snuggled up against Kate, her breathing lulled into a gentle pattern as the sound of the rotors ahead was replaced by the steady sound of her lover's heart....

Maybe Alabama hadn't gotten her so upset after all....


	4. Catherine Willows - Alaska

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take a moment and look up...

There were advantages and disadvantages to speaking Farsi, thought Mac distractedly as she reviewed her sparse lodgings for the night, grateful for the thick comforter and roaring fire. The major disadvantage was that she often ended up in hot climates and with sand in unfortunate places; the advantage however, was that she'd managed to skip her last couple of rounds of cold weather duty...She'd not been too bothered, thinking living through D.C. winters had probably helped keep up her immunity a little....how careless that assumption had been.

Alaska, in November, was fucking freezing: there really was no other way to describe it.

Sighing to herself, Mac's eye was caught by a glossy leaflet sitting on the bedside table - it was a tourist brochure, announcing the one winter attraction that would attract a cold Marine Colonel's attention - a hot tub...with a glass roof? Intrigued, Mac sat down on the bed and considered the leaflet...certain her ever present sea bag contained a sensible one piece swim suit, after all, she was a Marine.

 

 

* * *

 

Grissom's ability to remember that she was the lab expert on blood spatter was amazingly selective. When there was an important international conference in Hawaii, he always forgot; when there was an 'interesting' blood spatter pattern in a case that the local law enforcement were not qualified to handle, he always remembered...why did Grissom only know people in the most inhospitable of climates?

Sure, Catherine Willows had once lived in Montana, grew up there in fact, and as a result was used to the concept of 'cold', but the many years she'd lived and worked in Las Vegas had conditioned her body to redefine cold...and it didn't involve sub zero temperatures being the daily 'maximum'.

Unpacking her bag, Catherine surveyed her surroundings, thankful that the motel owners prided themselves on warm and spotless accommodation. It was hard enough to sleep in a hotel room when you'd processed as many as Catherine had....but it was easier if it, superficially at least, didn't look, or smell like a dive. Now, if only this town had a hot tub...

 

* * *

 

Settling back into the warm bubbling water, Mac felt her neck and shoulders relax for the first time since she'd arrived at Fort Wainwright, Fairbanks, Alaska. As Army bases went, it seemed fairly standard, not that she was as familiar with Army bases as she was Marine or Navy, but due to a paperwork crisis, she was billeted to the town, rather than the base. Given how many Marines she'd just upset this afternoon by delaying their departure (they were visiting for cold weather training at the base) back to warmer climes owing to her investigation (like she was glad to be sent to Alaska to investigate them?), staying off base was probably no bad thing....

Shifting her position slightly, so that a particularly enthusiastic bubbling jet of warm water was directed straight at a particularly tense part of her back, Mac felt the tension in her body dissipate enough that her head naturally dropped back to rest on the lip of the tub....revealing why a glass roof was so important....

Streaking across the inky black sky were sheets of colours, their intensity surprising Mac as her startled brain finally recognised what she was seeing - the Northern Lights. Settling more comfortably into her hot water massage, Mac was content to let her mind drift as her eyes marvelled at the greatest light show she'd ever seen...

 

* * *

 

With half an eye on where she was putting her feet, and most of her attention on the sky above her, Catherine Willows carefully stepped into the hot tub, automatically noticing the brunette sitting on the far side, seemingly transfixed by the light show above. When she'd first started out for the hot tub, Catherine, used to the neon intensity of the Strip, had dismissed the streaks of green and pink that shot across the sky, automatically assuming them to be the product of another over priced light show at one of the hotels.... but then she remembered....this wasn't Vegas. Stopping suddenly, she had stood, open mouthed, transfixed at the show the heavens were putting on...the Aurora Borealis...she'd not thought of them for years, only reminded of them when she'd processed a kid's bedroom once, which was covered in posters of the phenomenon. Her gawping had soon stopped though...the wind soon reminded her that she wasn't in Vegas, even if the scenery had confused her for a moment.

 

* * *

 

Mac's attention was distracted from the sky when she heard the heart-felt sigh of contentment as a blonde sank into the water, her eyes never wavering from the show above them. Curious, Mac had studied the woman, noting the weariness in the face, the chapped lips and the long blonde hair, only for her assessment to be interrupted by the woman,

"You're either incredibly stupid or obedient to be here..." Most women know when they're being watched; all strippers know when they're being watched; all CSIs know when they're being watched...Catherine didn't need to move her head to know that the attractive brunette, hair pinned tidily up on the top of her head, was watching her.

"Obedient..." volunteered Mac simply, not in the least bit offended or embarrassed about being caught.

"But you didn't argue...doesn't that make you stupid too?" reasoned Catherine, letting her body float a little in the warm water, content to anchor herself in place with the back of her head and her fingertips.

"I'm a Marine...so I'm just obedient..." reasoned Mac, resuming her own sky gazing, content to let the blonde reply in her own time.

"Ah, I'm just stupid..."

"Not obedient?"

"My boss sent me up here...from Vegas..." explained Catherine, not sure what it was about the softly spoken Marine that was encouraging these revelations, but too warm and spacey to be bothered to worry much.

"Isn't that obedient?" queried Mac, turning her head to look at her conversation partner.

"If I made a habit of doing what he said, yes..." admitted Catherine honestly, remembering all the times she'd ignored "Grissom the Boss" when he'd told her to do something and instead only listened to "Gil the friend", interpreting his instructions as advice.

"You often say no to your boss?" asked Mac, reminding herself that not every work place was like the military. You could say no and live....most of the time.

"Sometimes...which is why I'm stupid...who'd come to Alaska in November?" asked Catherine, dragging her eyes away from the sky and locking her gaze with surprisingly rich green ones.

"I did think that..." agreed Mac, trying not to analyse her situation with anything approaching rationalness.

"Did?" Catherine sensed a shift in her companion's mood, away from whimsy to thoughtfulness...

"Then I looked up and it didn’t matter any more..." admitted Mac, before tearing her gaze from the blonde's and once more looking at the sky....Aurora Borealis...Alaska in November...fantastic.


	5. Texas - Abbie Carmichael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uniform Violations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original author's note:  
> @kimly commented before Christmas that she thought Mac needed to go travelling...not sure how long I (or Mac come to that) can sustain this rate of adventure though....

"Thank you, no," smiled Lieutenant Colonel Sarah 'Mac' Mackenzie for the third (but it felt like the thirtieth) time, hoping that her smile still looked polite and not insincere.

"You can't stand pickles either huh?" questioned a new voice, a warm, laughing female voice that, Mac decided, had it's Texan accent softened by some East Coast accents.

"They're not my first choice at a barbeque..." admitted Mac honestly, smiling at the brunette who was now talking to her, a smile that was as genuine as it looked, which only served to show up her earlier efforts as fakes.

"You prefer the animal dead and the fries crispy?" joked Abbie Carmichael, taking a swig from her third beer and, in the process, noticing her companion's glass was empty.

"Something like that..." agreed Mac, not sure what else to say, so filling the silence with a large bite of dead animal (an excellent steak) and some crispy fries.

"Beer?" offered Abbie suddenly, having finished her own and feeling the need to be a hostess, despite it not being her party. Also, in her experience, the party was generally at its best between beers three and five. The moment should not be wasted, especially with the company….

"I'm good..." dismissed Mac, hoping that this woman wouldn't press her.

"Sorry, I meant tonic, that is what you're drinking, right? Beer is more of a euphemism for something cold and wet..." explained Abbie, cursing herself for the stupid question and then the nervous long winded explanation. The woman was in uniform for god's sake, and drinking from a glass, not a bottle - she was probably on duty....

"Yes, tonic, and another would be great, but I'll come with you..." decided Mac spontaneously, spotting another 'pickle boy' as she'd taken to calling the eager young men who were all attempting to offer her something - it was an unfortunate side effect of the uniform, getting inane questions from gun keen teenagers....

"Matt and Danny bugging you?" guessed Abbie, noticing where Mac's gaze had gone, glad of the distraction from her inner monologue about how great women in uniform were which was only serving to make her nervous. If Jack McCoy ever learnt how nervous and tongue-tied Abbie Carmichael could become when confronted with a woman she was intrigued by…it was hard to decide which revelation would bug him more, that she could get tongue-tied or that she liked women…..

"Are they the boys with the pickles?"

"Yes...and mad keen on the military since their dad bought them their first air gun..." explained Abbie, shaking her head towards the boys.

"You know the family?" asked Mac, intrigued.

"Dick Wolson's a friend of my father's. When I was at university in Austin, we'd sometimes come out here to visit...I knew those boys when they were in kindergarten."

"Oh..."

"Let me guess, you were ordered from Kingsville?" asked Abbie, taking the opportunity to rake her gaze over the trim Marine who was standing in the Wolsons' back garden looking completely at ease in her uniform but completely ill-at-ease with the occasion.

"How did you guess?" asked Mac, pouring herself another tonic water from the bottle on the table.

"Dick's parties are famed in Kingsville, and the Base Commander often comes....but doesn't normally bring a Marine...." Abbie left her question open, wondering if this Officer would ignore the opening or pick up the bait. At least she’d managed to be concise…

"I'm the Base JAG - I've been temporarily assigned to Kingsville from D.C." explained Mac succinctly.

"JAG?"

"Judge Advocate General...."

"Abbie Carmichael, Assistant District Attorney for the City of New York..." Abbie accompanied her introduction with a proffered hand.

"Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, Chief of Staff to the JAG..." replied Mac, shaking her hand.

"Currently assigned to Kingsville..."

"Temporarily assigned..." corrected Mac gently, sipping her tonic.

"There's a difference?" asked Abbie, noting the firmness of tone despite the gentleness.

"My posting is to the JAG in D.C. I'm covering at Kingsville for a few days until the new Base JAG arrives..."

"How long have you been here?"

"Ten days...and here for another four..."

"Makes you appreciate D.C. summers, doesn't it?" joked Abbie, taking a long swig from her new beer, a swig, Mac noticed, which looked far more thirst quenching than it actually was, with the level of liquid in the bottle barely changing after the swig.

"I'm just glad I had time to pack my cooler uniforms before I left..." mused Mac, shuddering at the thought of having to have arrived in Texas in her D.C. 'uniform of the day' which was still currently winter, or, in Navy terms, 'blues' not 'whites'.

"But no ten gallon hats..." mused Abbie, finally placing what was sticking out the most about the Marine.

"Excuse me?"

"That's what's odd about you..." continued Abbie, forgetting her social graces as she pondered the point.

"What?" Startled, Mac found herself rooted to the spot as she tried to unravel the insult this intriguing New York Prosecutor was lobbing at her.

"Your hat...." Self conscious, Mac reached up to check her cap, which was resting in the correct place on her head, as she'd expect it to be. Whilst many outside of the military struggled the first time they tried one on to get the cap to stay in position without feeling awkward, for the experienced Colonel, it was second nature, increasing her surprise at having it commented on.

"Cap..." corrected Mac automatically, satisfied with its placement.

"Isn't a ten gallon..." Acting out of what many would regard her character to be now, when actually she was merely returning to the relaxed, slightly teasing attitudes she’d always had when at the Wolson's parties, Abbie plucked her own hat from her head and carefully dropped it onto Mac's head, resting it over the Marine Cap.

"There...now you're not the only one not wearing one..." declared Abbie triumphantly, only for her more normal rationalness to kick in, "...I've not got you in trouble have I?" she asked suddenly, confusing Mac who was deciding to ignore the new hat, preferring instead to 'go with the flow' as the Navy liked to...

"For what?"

"Some sort of uniform infraction?"

"Oh...technically...I am wearing my cap under the hat..." mused Mac, her eyes sparkling with amusement at the sudden change of nerve from the Texan, "...but since I'm the only Marine Officer here..."

"You're not in trouble?"

"Not unless I write myself up on a charge, no..." confirmed Mac, nevertheless removing the hat from her own head, and placing it back on Abbie's head.

"You don't want it?"

"You were the only one here not wearing one..." teased Mac, drinking some more of her tonic water.

"And now you're the odd one out...."

"I think the Marine Greens ensure that happens..." observed Mac reasonably, wondering if the Texan knew she was flirting.

"They're not so easy to swap..." concluded Abbie thoughtfully, making Mac totally certain the Texan knew she was flirting.

"No...at least..." Mac paused whilst she adjusted Abbie's hat, "...not in public..." before putting down her tonic and heading back towards the barbeque in search of more food, leaving Abbie Carmichael experiencing a new sensation...speechlessness!


	6. Kansas - Alex Cabot (pt 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Tale of Peter Rabbit

"You wanted to see me Sir?" Whilst Mac wasn't exactly 'nervous' about entering Admiral Chewiggen's office, there certainly seemed to be an increase in the number of last minute trips she was being sent on.

"Seabag packed Mac?"

"Yes Sir...."

"Warm or cold climate?"

"Temperate, Sir." 'She was a Marine, damn it, they went anywhere...though somewhere warm and sunny might be nice...'

"Not sure what Kansas is like this time of year...General Hadley is expecting you Colonel..."

"Yes Sir, what's the case?"

"Your childhood ever include Beatrix Potter?" asked Admiral Chedwiggen suddenly.

"Beatrix who Sir?"

"Potter, English woman, wrote illustrated stories..."

"Yes Sir..." 'At least he isn't quoting Shakespeare'

"Read Peter Rabbit before you land...Hadley's Mr MacGregor."

"Yes Sir..." 'What the hell Sir?'

"Dismissed."

 

 

* * *

 

"Carrots...."

"Excuse me?" If the well dressed blonde was surprised that the Marine Colonel sitting next to her had suddenly started naming root vegetables, she concealed it rather well.

"I said that out loud..." observed Mac, taking in the clear blue eyes and black framed glasses.

"Would it help if I said parsnip?" retorted Alex Cabot dryly, impressed that the Colonel didn't seem too phased to be 'caught'.

"Probably not...those weren't being grown in the General's garden..."

"Pardon?" That was it, Alex couldn't sustain her 'professional' self through this conversation any longer.

"Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, JAG Corps...I'm investigating a case for the Marine Corps..." she explained belatedly, in the hope that it might make her seem like a slightly rational human being.

"About root vegetables?"

"So it seems..."

"I see..." Strangely, Alex did see.

"Alex Cabot, ADA for New York City...if it's any consolation, I've had a case involving clown red noses...." she offered, dimly recalling a case she'd 'caught' as a favour for Serena once, years earlier. It had turned out to be a rather unsavoury murder, but had started as a hunt for a thief with a penchant for clown red noses..

"Different..." Smiling, Mac turned her head slightly to look past Alex's body and out of the window, pleased to see it was still blue sky and sunshine high above the clouds.

"You're going to Fort Leavenworth?" guessed Alex, having a sudden urge to make small talk with this interesting brunette.

"How did you guess?"

"Because I couldn't picture them growing carrots at Wichita?" suggested Alex, thinking of the big Air Force base she'd driven past once.

"Good guess....and you?" enquired Mac politely.

"Actually, I'm also going there, at least, I'm going to visit a friend...her husband is based there..." Alex trailed off, unsure how to explain how she knew Jess, and deciding instead to fill the pregnant pause with her reason for travelling, "...she wants some friendly support when she enters her vegetables in the State Fair..."

"Umm, General Hadley's wife?" guessed Mac, suddenly having a horrible feeling.

"You know Jess?"

"She wasn't entering carrots was she?" asked Mac, rapidly shuffling papers in her lap, looking for the brief case notes she'd made so far.

"I'm not sure...wait, you're investigating stolen carrots?"

"Yes..."

"But you're a Marine?"

"Yes..."

"Bob's Army..." recalled Alex, not knowing much about the military, except that it was probably not normal for the Army to be calling in the Marines to investigate cases....

"Yes..." Mac was at a complete loss as to what to say. Fortunately, Alex was content to fill in the blanks and make life easy for Mac.

"Mr MacGregor wants you to catch Peter Rabbit?" guessed Alex, remembering being amused by the sight of this obviously highly decorated Marine reading 'The Tale of Peter Rabbit' during take-off.

"Yes..." This time, Mac did blush, a blush that only deepened as Alex let out a silvery peal of laughter.

"What makes him think it was a Marine?" asked Alex, when she'd finally regained her composure, although her eyes were still sparkling with mirth.

"Apparently..." Mac found another piece of paper, deciding that she could risk quoting General Hadley to a friend of his wife, "...'No Soldier would have such a low opinion of my potatoes....it must be a Marine to dig in like that...'". To Mac's amazement, the weird quotation only restarted Alex's laughter.

"Alex?" prompted Mac finally, when it was apparent the blonde wasn't going to stop laughing.

"Bob was probably entering his King Edwards....he's won a first prize in six States, and has a reputation...."

"I'm surprised he hasn't blamed the Air Force..." observed Mac, deciding that she could risk enjoying the funny side of this random conversation, at least for a few more minutes. She’d have to keep a straight face on base.

"Oh?" asked Alex, pausing in her laughing.

"Collateral damage is normally their fault....must have been cloudy," quipped Mac, recalling the long running jokes about air strikes and clouds, the observation setting off Alex again. Finally, the blonde had regained her composure, just in time for her ears to pop as they began their descent.

"What's the punishment for root vegetable related crime?"

"Depends on the offence...theft is relatively minor...depends if it's aggravated..." replied Mac automatically.

"Are you going to enter the potatoes into evidence?"

"Should I?" Mac blinked, unable to believe that she was discussing criminal evidence and procedure within the context of root vegetables…and with a straight face!

"It will get you on Bob's good side..."

"Understood...." noted Mac, deciding that this case could perhaps become her weirdest yet....assuming there were actually some Marines in the State when the alleged 'assault' happened.

"Oh, and Colonel?"

"Yes Counsellor?"

"Name's Alex...I have a feeling you might need to use it..."

"Friends call me 'Mac'...." explained Mac, giving Alex's proffered hand a friendly shake.

"Mac?" Alex's eyebrows raised in surprise at the nickname, before continuing boldly,

"Who gets to call you Sarah?"


	7. Kansas - Alex Cabot (pt 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee and Carrots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It will help if you've read part 1, which can be found using the tags to this entry. Oh, by the way, I noticed in the first part I made Mac a Colonel - let's pretend she got her promotion shall we? It's so much easier that way :-)

"Visiting the scene of the crime?" called out Alex, amused at the sight of Colonel Sarah Mackenzie crouched, in her full 'office' uniform, scrutinising carrot tops.

"Something like that..." agreed Mac, standing up and turning back towards the veranda, thankful that, with the sun now behind her, she could consider the tall blonde attorney without squinting. For some reason, naval aviators were the only officers who managed to get away with strolling around outside wearing sunglasses for no real reason - Marines were just expected to squint.

"Any evidence?"

"I'm not sure...not really my field of expertise..." admitted Mac, casting a dejected glance at the vegetable patch in front of her.

"What, evidence collection?" asked Alex, coming down from the veranda, coffee mug in hand, intent on inspecting the 'scene'.

"No, slug damage as distinct from Marine..." admitted Mac, eying Alex's coffee mug with something akin to longing.

"You miss your coffee ration this morning Colonel?"

"Have you ever drunk Army coffee?"

"Apparently Bob's home brew is better than the Base..."

"And that mug?"

"I brewed myself...." explained Alex, before suddenly, impulsively, passing the mug across to Mac, "...and am willing to share..."

"What's your offer?" asked Mac, immediately recognising, with some amusement, that Alex had shifted into what all trial attorneys recognised as the openings of a plead-out deal.

"Intelligence..."

"What kind?"

"Military...Bob speaks in code...he explained at great length this morning what he was going to do the next three days, but I just didn't understand an acronym of it..." admitted Alex almost shyly, recalling the awkwardness at breakfast when it became clear General Hadley had realised she wasn't understanding what he'd said - she hadn't felt that uncomfortable since Law School.

"Supervising an exercise - he's probably going to stay out on exercise since the forecast's good..." responded Mac automatically, recalling the paper she had seen pinned to the notice board outside her room, explaining base operations for the week.

"Ah..." Alex paused to consider this new information, mischievously taking the mug to her lips, conscious of her new friend's eyes jealously tracking every movement, "...what exactly does that mean?"

"It can mean many things, but I would imagine that in this case, General Hadley's soldiers have been divided into two groups - friend and foe - and are trying to invade or overrun each other. The General will sit in a tent somewhere, with observers relaying to him what's happening. If he's really evil, he'll change the rules of the game as the exercise goes on..." explained Mac, deliberately attempting to relax her tone of speech and language into something that, whilst perhaps not entirely colloquial, was nevertheless not military either.

"Ah, thank you..." Pondering this new information, which made far more sense than the Scrabble set of acronyms that had been recited to her this morning, Alex genuinely forgot about her deal, until,

"Can I have your coffee now?" asked Mac lightly, sensing from the blonde's body language that the delayed delivery of the precious black liquid was due to distraction, not deception.

"Sure..." Smiling apologetically, Alex passed the mug across to Mac, trying not to get over-excited or overly analytical about the fact that, rather than lifting the mug by the rim, the Colonel reached for the mug handle, resulting in an awkward tangle of fingers as the mug was transferred from blonde to brunette.

"You make good coffee..." murmured Mac in appreciation, glad to discover that not only was the liquid strong and hot, but that the beans were good too.

"Is it possible to survive Law School without learning how?"

"If you've already been corrupted by the Navy, yes..." muttered Mac, mock shuddering as she remembered some of Harmon Rabb's attempts at coffee.

"Your colleagues?" guessed Alex, knowing enough about the Armed Forces to know that if Mac said Navy, she was deliberately not talking about the Marines.

"My partner mainly...he was a pilot..."

"Tall dark and thinks he's handsome?" guessed Alex, immediately developing an impression of the man - she'd met enough hot shot NYPD cops to have some idea of the ego a naval aviator might have and it didn't take much to craft it onto a typical smooth hot shot lawyer.

"He actually gets enough female attention to confirm the handsome..." mused Mac, taking another long sip of the coffee, continuing, "...actually, you're exactly his type..."

"His type?" Alex couldn't believe that, now she was having a conversation that was bordering on (ok, maybe already knee deep in) flirtation, she was asking questions about the Colonel's male partner's type. On the other hand, given the looks she was getting from Mac, maybe the conversation wasn't wasted....

"Blonde..." began Mac, cursing herself for bringing up Harm, only to then realise that, as long as she was supposed to be talking about physical types, it did give her a legitimate opportunity to openly look at all of Alexandra Cabot's spectacular features; maybe the conversation wasn't wasted...

"That's no longer a type..." reasoned Alex, as if in cross-examination.

"True, but natural redheads make useless blondes...."

"How do you know I'm not a natural redhead with a good hairdresser then?" countered Alex, beginning to enjoy herself.

"I don't...but I submit blue eyes as evidence..." countered Mac, leaning back against the veranda railing and wishing she wasn't wearing her heavy uniform, but too long in the Corps to even waste time dwelling on that for more than a second.

"Could be contacts..."

"Do you dye your eyebrows?" As non sequiturs went, it was one of Mac's more memorable.

"No, do you?"

"No, so I think I can assume you're not a natural redhead..."

"Assumption valid...in the interests of full disclosure, I am a natural blonde, but not this..." Alex paused to consider how she would succinctly explain her situation.

"Blonde?" suggested Mac lightly, her sparkling eyes and accompanying smirk communicating that she understood exactly what Alex was trying to say.

"Correct."

"Long legs..." continued Mac, wondering at what point in the conversation she'd stopped describing the mental picture she had of Harm's type and moved on to describing her own.

"Ditto..." Agreed Alex, not sure if she was agreeing to owing some, or agreeing to liking them...

"Intelligence?"

"Naturally..." As they traded attributes as questions, the pace of their conversation increased.

"Pizza and movies?"

"On the couch..."

"Alcohol?"

"Not necessarily..."

"I'm an alcoholic..." At Mac's admission, Alex didn't blink.

"I'm a workaholic..." she countered.

"Ditto..." Mac agreed, before asking, "A sense of humour?"

"Patience to find it?"

"I think I already have..." ventured Mac, confident now that they hadn't been talking about anyone's 'type' except their own for the last few moments.

"What happens now?" asked Alex, wanting to reach out to touch her, but, uncertain of all things military, finding the uniform holding her back.

"If this was New York, what would you want to happen?" asked Mac reasonably, sensing Alex's reluctance and wanting to try to understand what the cause was.

"Dinner...maybe a walk..."

"Sounds good..." agreed Mac, an idea suddenly forming.

"You're a guest of the General's wife, not the General?"

"Jess, yes..."

"She mention the Officer's Mess?"

"Yes...but said she couldn't take me, and Bob's not around..."

"Would you like to go to dinner at the Mess, tonight?" asked Mac, nervously turning the now empty mug around in her hands.

"You can take me?" asked Alex, surprised.

"Even Army Bases have to recognise Marine Colonels as Officers..." teased Mac gently.

"Sorry, I meant to ask if you could take me to the Mess, despite not being based here..."

"Yes, I can...especially when most of the Base Brass is off on exercise..."

"I'd love to..."

"We'd have to walk back here..."

"I'll take a coat..."

"I'll be in uniform..." Mac trailed off, not sure how to express her concerns, not wanting to reveal to Alex how much trust Mac was placing in her, in case she hadn't realised.

"I'm an attorney, you're an attorney, it's always interesting to hear about how one's professional brethren operate..." explained Alex, before smiling nervously and saying, "...I may not have the complexity of your situation Colonel, but I am not New York's most visible lesbian."

"Ditto?" asked Mac shyly, suddenly immensely relieved Alex understood.

"Time and place Colonel?"

"1845, the Mess entrance?"

"It's a date, Sarah..." There was something about the way Alex said her name that did interesting things to Mac's insides, good interesting things, things that were too good...

"I think you'd better call me Mac or Colonel..." began Mac, enunciating her words carefully, enjoying the perplexed look crossing Alex' face, before arching an eyebrow and positively purring, "...Alexandra..."

"Alex..." gasped Alex, surprised to hear her full name and not immediately hate hearing it, "...I think you'd better call me Alex..."


	8. Kansas - Alex Cabot (pt3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friends with Benefits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a personal attempt to round off the Kansas series so that, if I get distracted by Mac in other places, I don't feel guilty that I've left this pairing (which I feel have a lot of potential) hanging in an unfinished WIP. It is random, but the random coefficient decreases if you've read Kansas part 1 & 2 and Alaska....

"Are you always this punctual?" asked Alex, impressed when Mac came to a stop a decorous two paces from her just as the Base Clock chimed the three-quarters.

"I'm two minutes early, the Base clock is fast..." said Mac confidently, concealing her delight at having Alex meet her on time. There was nothing more frustrating to someone who kept perfect time than tardiness.

"It is?" asked Alex, instinctively glancing at her watch, which she knew kept perfect time, "....it is...how did you know?"

"It's a gift... was General Hadley's wife happy with my borrowing her guest for the evening?" asked Mac, hoping that Alex recognised the slightly formal phrasing was due to their location and her position, which she'd been informed that afternoon, was actually the highest ranking officer on Base this evening, with everyone else being involved with the exercise or at home, off base. It wasn't the best situation to be in when you were hoping to be enjoying a private dinner as, in the event that something unusual happened, she'd probably be summoned to be one of first on scene, even before anyone realised she outranked every other JAG within perhaps a thousand miles...

"Relieved actually, Jess had to go to some committee meeting, to do with the Base childcare..." Alex tried not to pull an unpleasant face, but all those small children....

"Not a fan of small children?" asked Mac lightly, able to see the blonde's nose twitch in a poorly concealed wrinkle of distaste.

"Ones I'm sufficiently well acquainted with that I can be the generous Aunt or Godmother, either honorary or actual are enjoyable; the thought of my own? If I can find a way to combine a relationship that's right, with a career that's enjoyable...I would love them. Other peoples? Cannot stand them. You?" Alex hoped her rather forthright views on the subject wouldn't be too incompatible with Colonel Mackenzie's.

"I love my godchildren, want to have children of my own but not unless the partner and rest of my life are right...." mused Mac, relieved to find that children was a topic they were reasonably in tune about, if only to ensure that their evening didn't start off too frosty.

"At present, I seem to prioritise finding comfortable footwear above everything else..." murmured Alex spontaneously, suddenly becoming all too aware that these new shoes, which should have fitted perfectly (they were, after all, the second pair she'd owned of this colour in this style, a style which she'd previously owned at least five pairs of), were currently starting to react rather badly with her heel...

"You're not the only one...shall we go in?" encouraged Mac, having spotted a soldier starting to hurry across the parade square, obviously looking for an Officer. She did not want to be the first one he found.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Do you always get this level of service?" asked Alex once they were seated, impressed with the speed at which they were seated at obviously the best table in the room, with very attentive service.

"Outside military bases? No..." explained Mac, shaking her head sharply when the table staff tried to approach. Whether it was a message or a menu, she didn't want the distractions to start just yet.

"But rank has its privileges?" guessed Alex, smiling with amusement.

"I'm a JAG officer from Headquarters...it doesn't matter which branches of the Service are involved, we're not Base Commanders' favourite people to have come visit, so we either get shunned or courted...." explained Mac, taking a sip from her water glass and taking a quick glance around the room, noting the three Majors and seven Captains already seated, suddenly very glad Alex had already identified that this would be a friendly dinner between fellow attorneys...

"And you have too much rank to be shunned?"

"Something like that..." laughed Mac, resigned now to having to tolerate the interruption from an Army Captain who had just come into the Mess, obviously with a message for her, "...but it does mean we're not going to get to eat dinner in peace I'm afraid..." she apologised as she reluctantly nodded for the Captain to give her the message paper.

"I had a dinner in one of New York's more glamorous restaurants once...and in the middle of the starter, two of my detectives sat down at the table and began presenting the facts of their interviews, wanting to convince me I should ring for a warrant...." explained Alex, recalling a dinner long ago when Munch and Fin had joined her part way through her soup. Her companion, after eavesdropping for all of thirty seconds, hadn't stayed long enough for her to enjoy her fish course.

"I met a criminalist once, when I was in Alaska..." Mac paused as she unfolded the note and scanned it, before continuing her tale whilst her mind turned over the facts, "...she interrupted her colleague's date by dropping a severed finger on the bar table as she walked past..."

"Short date....interesting case?" asked Alex, unfazed by the gruesome detail but finding some amusement from the paling of their interrupter’s face.

"Weird more than anything, she said something about it involving a Rabbit costume..." mused Mac, making the automatic association with Peter Rabbit and the carrots she had been here investigating.

"Are they in custody Captain?" she asked sharply, hoping not to have to leave the table.

"Yes Ma'am, being driven back from the exercise in separate trucks Ma'am."

"They need to go to the medics?"

"Major Genson, uh, the Exercise MO didn't seem to think that would be necessary Ma'am. He's cleared them from there Ma'am."

"Have the Staff Sergeant clean them up and locked up. We'll sort this out in the morning Captain."

"Yes Ma'am." Coming stiffly to attention, the young Captain (God she was getting old if she thought Army Captains were young now) turned on his heel and excused himself.

"Problem?" enquired Alex politely, accepting the menu that was now being offered to her.

"Two officers on exercise decided to settle their tactical differences with their boots. General Hadley's asked me to assist the local investigation," explained Mac, mentally wondering how long it would take for her to have to answer a call from Admiral Chedwiggen.

"But you're not Army...he was complaining about that at breakfast...." recalled Alex, enjoying the fact that Mac felt comfortable talking with her.

"The two officers are the JAG officers for the base...suddenly, I'm rather useful to him...." mused Mac, inspecting the menu and spotting a steak that took her fancy.

"So you'll be sticking around?" asked Alex, hopeful. Mac had rung Jess that afternoon and explained the results of her investigation - the damage had been done by a Marine Private, but he had been acting under orders from an Army Corporal, who had accepted all responsibility (the Marine had believed he was digging in one of the base kitchen gardens) and was going to be dealt with by the Base Army JAGs. At present, Mac was booked to return to D.C. tomorrow morning.

"I've got to wait for new orders to be cut in Washington for it to be official..." said Mac, watching Alex's face shift through a subtle range of emotions, which Mac hoped she was interpreting correctly, "...but yes, unless the Army flies in a new JAG, I'll be here for a little while longer..."

"Does that bother you?" asked Alex carefully, hoping that Mac's answer wouldn't be negative.

"Normally, I hate being delayed from returning home..."

"Normally?" asked Alex, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"Normally, I eat on my own..." Mac hoped the neutral sounding comment, a necessity given their location, would be correctly understood by Alex to mean something more personal, a compliment to her company. Judging by the shy smile that briefly formed on Alex's face, before being covered by a more confident, 'socially polite' smile, Mac decided her true meaning had been understood,  "...ready to order?"

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"That was a great dinner...."

"I'm sorry for the interruptions..." apologised Mac as they walked across the parade ground, heading in the general direction of the Base Commander's house.

"I didn't mind....really..." replied Alex, again. Their dinner had actually been less disruptive than her last date, with her cell phone not ringing every fifteen minutes about warrants. The three interruptions from the Captain concerning the imprisoned JAG officers and the one telephone call from the Navy JAG informing Mac of her new orders, to stay in Leavenworth for a week to unscramble this mess and visit her Uncle, were nothing compared to a regular evening for the ADA.

"Are you working to a curfew?" asked Mac, wondering if they had time to take a leisurely walk back to General Hadley's house, or whether Mac needed to order a car to drive Alex the mile back to her host.

"Jess said she would be up until 1, something about needing to listen to a live broadcast of a band her nephew was in...her only advice to me was to make sure I didn't walk back on my own after dark...something about not having base ID?"

"I'm signed into the Base, so can escort you," explained Mac easily, checking her internal clock and discovering it was only a 22:12, "...and it's now 22:13..." she continued, knowing that Alex, for whatever reason, was happy to accept her timekeeping skill without too much debate.

"Walk me home Colonel?" whispered Alex flirtatiously, deciding that, with no one else crossing the central Parade Ground at that moment, she could live dangerously and try one deliberately blatant flirtation.

"How are your shoes?"

"Much better - a nice young man gave me some paper to stick over the nail. I'll have them fixed next week sometime...how are your shoes?"

"Regulation..."

"What does that mean?" asked Alex, turning to see the sparkling eyes of her escort. She'd obviously asked something that was funny.

"It means that every pair you've ever owned rubs in the same spot every day until finally your foot gives in...."

"Your feet are regulation shaped?"

"They are now..." confirmed Mac, trying not to remember the agonies that were boot camp. For some reason, she would always forget the rest of the physical torture those weeks had been, remembering instead the nightmare that was brand new boots, "...in Boot camp you're told to get your boots broken in, that one day the pain will disappear and you'll suddenly love your boots, and every subsequent pair of boots..."

"And did you?"

"Did I what?" asked Mac, suddenly stepping around the other side of Alex.

"Break in your boots...at Boot Camp…"

"No, but my boots broke my feet in perfectly..." Alex's laughter echoed across the parade ground, bringing a blush to the blonde and a smile to the brunette.

"Why did you switch sides?" asked Alex, finally unable to not contain her curiosity any longer.

"You're walking too close..." explained Mac, not realising how that sounded to the civilian Alex.

"I'm sorry..." Immediately, Alex took a deliberate stride away from Mac, tripling the space between them, obviously upset.

"Hey...I didn't mean too close in a bad way..." corrected Mac, adjusting her stride so she returned to Alex's side again, "...I liked you walking close..."

"So why did you move?" Although still confused, Alex was reassured to have Mac walking alongside her again. It was a nice night, the sort of night Alex wouldn't have minded holding hands on...

"Because I like your naturally blue eyes to stay blue..." teased Mac, wishing she could squeeze Alex's hand in reassurance, but knowing that she couldn't, not with that guard post just ahead.

"What have my eyes got to do with this?" Before Alex's question could be answered, the quiet still evening was cut with the regimented shouts that called a group of men to attention, ready to salute a Senior Officer.

"Good evening Ma'am..."

"As you were Corporal, have a good night..." responded Mac, smiling at the guards but not stopping to chat, protocol not requiring it.

"Thank you Ma'am...." responded the Corporal, watching as the two women stepped out onto the street that led up towards the homes of the Senior Officers, waiting until the respectful moment had past, before calling his men to return to their duties.

"I don't want you to get a black one..." explained Mac, picking up her earlier comment, confident now they were on the residential street, that she could be a little slower and less official in her walk. It was a nice night, and a nice date...that she'd like to prolong as long as possible.

"Black what?" Alex had lost her earlier train of thought when they'd passed through the guard post, being distracted by the unfamiliar military protocols that for her companion were instinctive.

"Eye...you walk too close to be safe on my right side..."

"But I'm ok on this side?" asked Alex, gesturing between them and not understanding. Why could she be a couple of inches from Mac's left arm, but not her right?

"I don't salute with my left arm Alex..." said Mac, stopping and turning to look at her confused friend, "...if we meet anyone in uniform, I need to take the salute...I have quite a sharp right elbow..." Mac illustrated her gentle explanation by easily coming to attention and saluting Alex, who, in the moonlight, could see the very angular silhouette of Mac's right elbow...at just the right level to impact with Alex's jaw or worse, her cheekbone, before being distracted by something quite different...

"Moonlight suits you Sarah..." she whispered, suddenly struck by how romantic the twilight had become now they were away from the harsh base lights.

"It suits you too Alex..." replied Mac, dropping the salute and relaxing her stance.

"I want to..." Alex trailed off, not sure how her desire to kiss Mac would go down if articulated.

"I know...and I would reciprocate..." agreed Mac, understanding exactly what thoughts Alex was having, and understanding also exactly why she was hesitating.

"But I don't do..."

"No, neither do I, and it's not because of the UCMJ..." agreed Mac regretfully.

"UCMJ?"

"Uniform Code of Military Justice, section 925, article 125..."

"And that is?"

"The reason Clinton introduced 'Don't Ask Don't Tell'..." explained Mac quietly, mentally quashing the chanting choir that was currently reminding her of every case she'd read or been involved with that had a bearing on her situation.

"Ah...but that's not the real reason..."

"No, it's not..."

"We don't do one night stands, do we?" asked Alex softly, glad that the issue which had been lingering over her thoughts all day was now being addressed.

"Not when I'm sober, no..." agreed Mac, glad they were coming to some understanding.

"We weren't heading to that though, were we?"

"I hoped not...I don't have many friends..." admitted Mac quietly, setting off walking again, but at a very slow pace.

“Neither do I…”

“Sarah hardly has any friends…” mused Mac, wondering if Alex would pick up the significance of her referring to herself in the third person.

"I’m a start though?" suggested Alex hopefully, liking the idea of being able to keep in contact with Mac in the future.

"A wonderful start...." agreed Mac, suddenly realising that, before they'd stopped, they'd actually managed to arrive virtually at General Hadley's house, with her last few dawdling steps bringing her to his driveway.

"So, friend...." teased Alex, relieved that they'd come to an understanding...whatever was developing between them was more than a moment of lust and their situation was hardly straightforward.

"Yes friend?" asked Mac, her eyes once again sparkling in the moonlight, this time with amusement and relief, relief that their earlier light hearted flirting that was primarily driven by friendship only had returned.

"Care to come in for some proper coffee?"

"The Mess Steward thought he served you some..." recalled Mac, remembering the care with which the coffee was brought to them in the Mess, already far too familiar with Marine views about Army coffee and determined to make a good impression.

"That was their best effort?" asked Alex, aghast.

"Has anyone told you you're a coffee snob?"

"Frequently, which is why I travel with my own beans..."

"Even when you visit a friend?"

"Jess drinks de-caff...you'd be doing me a favour..."

"I would?"

"I can't make coffee by the cup full, only by the jug-full..."

"And you hate to waste it I'm guessing?" asked Mac, deciding it was acceptable, as long as General Hadley's wife didn't object, to stay and keep Alex company: Colonels didn't have curfews....

"I'd be up all night....and not in a good way..." groused Alex playfully.

"In that case Counsellor...you've got a deal....I can't sleep without a decent cup of coffee...and I haven’t had one yet!"

"Now who's a coffee snob?" Laughing, Mac followed Alex through the gate and up the driveway...as much as she would have enjoyed something a little more passionate, it was good to have friends....and Alex was rapidly becoming a very good friend.


	9. Hawaii - Samantha Carter [pt1]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come Fly with Me...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make no excuses.....oh, and can we just pretend that, in light of all the flying F16 comments Sam Carter made in the pilot episode of SG1, Carter not only has wings but she wears them....thank you.

"I'm going where Sir?"

"Hawaii Mac."

"Yes Sir...." despite her verbal confidence, her expression definitely registered a respectful 'why me'.

"You're hitching a ride from Andrews...with a USAF Lieutenant Colonel Carter..."

"USAF?"

"It's all to do with a telescope...she's the military expert on astrophysics..."

"NASA Sir?"

"No, NORAD....anyway, you have your orders Colonel...Dismissed!"

 

* * *

 

 

Four hours later saw a confused Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie boarding a USAF transport plane at Andrews, bound for Hawaii.

"Colonel Mackenzie?"

"Yes?"

"Colonel Samantha Carter..." explained the tall blonde, extending a hand in greeting.

"You're my expert?" asked Mac skeptically.

"Depends, you're my lawyer?"

"Call me Mac..." declared Mac suddenly, recognising a spark of something akin to amusement in amazingly deep blue eyes.

"Sam..." offered Carter, deciding that, for a Marine, this lawyer didn't seem too bad.

"You know anything about the case?" asked Mac, settling herself into what was not a comfortable seat.

"Yes....you?"

"You mind explaining how you commit treason with a telescope?" countered Mac, recalling the one line brief the Admiral had given her.

"Classified...until we get some quarters..."

"Understood...." And Mac did, although her back was not understanding why she'd picked this particular lump of metal to sit against.

"Hungry?" asked Carter suddenly, reaching for bag, her own stomach rumbling loudly.

"Thanks..." confirmed Mac, glad she wasn't the only one with a healthy appetite.

"MREs, chicken or beef?" offered Sam politely, holding up the two packets, wondering what the reaction would be. Much to her amusement, it was a remarkably neutral smile but the request of 'beef' was definitely made through gritted teeth, prompting Sam to query as she handed over the packet,

"What were you expecting, a cocktail umbrella?"

'Well, I'd heard about Air Force inflight service....was wondering if it was better than my partner's...."

"What's his service like?"

"Rapid....we eject a lot..."

"I thought you were a lawyer..." observed Sam, tucking into her own MRE with something vaguely resembling gusto, or at least revealing a familiarity with the best way to eat an MRE tidily.

"I thought you were a lab geek..." observed Mac, noticing her companion's eating methods, which were remarkably similar to her own.

"When I'm not blowing things up or saving my C.O.'s butt...." admitted Sam offhandedly, not sure what it was about this Colonel that stopped her being offended by the comment, "You?"

"When I'm not watching my partner's six or investigating cases...." agreed Mac, finishing her MRE before asking casually "Blown anything good up?"

'A sun count as good?' thought Sam idly before grinning what could only be described as the sexiest shit-eating grin Mac had ever seen on a fellow Officer, and saying "Classified...investigate anything good?"

"Classified....what does a Marine need to do to get clearance around here Colonel?" asked Mac, in what Sam could safely decide was the most flirtatious question she'd ever been asked by a Marine Officer.

"I'm guessing that's about the same as for a Zoomie?" asked Sam, using what she knew to be Marine slang for aviators, drawing Mac's attention to her silver wings affixed above a fine selection of ribbons resting on the blue uniform.

"How about you buy me dinner...a proper dinner?"

"I think I can manage that..." agreed Sam, glad that her instincts had been correct, "...I'll even buy you a cocktail...."

"I don't drink....I'm an alcoholic..." explained Mac, glad to get that potentially awkward admission over with early.

"Shirley Temple would work though, right?" asked Sam curiously, not in the least bit concerned by the admission.

"If you must...but I prefer tonic with a squeeze of lime...." explained Mac, unable to shudder at the thought of the horribly sweet cocktail, so often an indicator of an uncaring date.

"Guess that could work...." declared Sam, furrowing her brow in deep thought, chewing on her lip in a rather endearing fashion.

"Work?" Mac was intrigued, and rather startled to discover she was finding this Air Force Colonel 'cute'.

"I owe you that cocktail umbrella....."


	10. Hawaii - Samantha Carter [pt 2]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colonels at 7...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sequel to the earlier fluff 'Come Fly with Me'.
> 
> [These were all in response to challenges in the femslash_fluff community, but my memory has completely failed me as to who/what/where the challenges were - probably fairly general non-specific fandom ones.]

"You sure you don't mind me drinking?" asked Sam Carter nervously, about to force her way through the crowded beach-side bar to get their drinks.

"Depends..." declared Mac, suddenly feeling bold, hoping she'd read the signals right.

"On?" asked Sam, hoping she was sending suitably readable signals.

"On whether you're planning on trying to kiss me later...if you are, get a tonic water as a chaser..." Mac enjoyed the heavy blush that started staining the Air Force Colonel's neck and cheeks, as well as the wide eyed reaction.

"Tonic with a twist of lime, right?" asked Sam, checking Mac's order in an effort to shift her mind from straying too deep into the gutter.

"Thanks..." confirmed Mac, happy to switch back to friendly professionalism, now the idea had been planted. Flashing another brilliant smile at Mac, not yet knowing what effect that smile was having on the normally disciplined Lieutenat Colonel, Sam melted into the crowd and headed to the bar, guessing that Mac would not have any problems keeping their table free from unwanted suitors whilst she was gone.

Just as Sam reached the order point, she felt her cell phone vibrating in the pocket of her shorts. Sighing in frustration, knowing only one person from the SGC who would call her at this time, she reached for the cell.

"Carter..."

*How's it going Sam?* asked Jack O'Neill jovially, kicking his booted feet up onto his desk.

"Fine Sir, thank you," replied Sam, carefully keeping an eye on her immediate space for anyone who might be trying to force ahead of her in the informal queue for the bartender's attention that had developed.

*You remembering to eat and sleep?* asked Jack, thinking he could hear the sounds of a bar in the background, glad that something or someone had finally managed to make Carter stop, even if it was just for a few moments.

"I won't work through the night Sir..." answered Sam, answering the question obliquely, unable to out and out lie to Jack O'Neill, but unwilling to tell him the whole truth about her plans - he may be a good friend, but there were some things he really didn't need to know.

*Cool...* Jack trailed off, unable to think of anything else that he needed to say, having only really rung Carter because he was bored - calling was the equivalent of going and playing in her lab with the 'doohickeys' whilst bugging her. Unfazed by the growing silence between them, Sam waited for Jack to start bugging her, knowing that was probably the only reason for his call. Not bothering to cut the line, when it got to her turn with the bartender, she called out

"Two tonics with twists of lime, and a mai tai..."

*Tonics and mai tais Carter?* spluttered Jack, having heard her order. Since when did she drink either of those, and where were the bottles of beer?

"Yes Sir..." confirmed Sam, handing over a few bills when the bartender returned, having thoughtfully arranged the drinks on the bar so she could grab them easily, once she'd dumped the cell phone.

*Mai tais?* Jack was struggling to picture her with the strong fruity cocktail. Since when had Carter ever drunk rum? He had strong memories of knocking back hard spirits with her after their very worst of missions, but mai tais?

"I owe a colonel a cocktail umbrella..." explained Sam cryptically yet simply, shoving her change in her pocket, preparing to dump Jack's call.

*Ah...* Jack paused whilst he pondered that statement, before glancing at a sheet of paper on his desk which outlined the details of Carter's trip.

*Don't do anything I wouldn't do Sam...* teased Jack, suddenly finding a few things make sense.

"That could be difficult Jack..." continued Sam, trapping the cell between her ear and shoulder before grabbing the drinks, deciding it could take a while to get rid of her obviously bored friend.

*You're not changing teams again are you?* asked Jack, recalling the lengthy conversations he'd had with Sam years ago when she'd explained about why Jonas Hanson really hadn't been going to work.

"No...no change there Jack..." Confused, Jack reached for the paper again. No, he still didn't see it. Deciding to be a bit more specific, glad that he had called from his private line rather than the secure base phone, he said

*There are a few females jarheads with personalities...*

"I know Jack...that wasn't what I meant..." explained Sam, placing the drinks carefully on their table, smiling apologetically at Mac, even more determined to finish her conversation quickly.

*More than a few female colonels too...* continued Jack, wondering how long it would be before Sam hung up on him, the background noise much quieter now, suggesting she'd returned to her table somewhere.

"Yeah, but never a JAG...gotta go Jack..." answered Sam quickly, confident that Jack's views on lawyers were even more extreme than those he had previously held for scientists.

*She checking you out?* he asked, grinning in amusement, not needing to see Sam to know she was blushing.

"Goodbye Jack..." Sam abruptly hung up the phone, leaving her friend laughing in his office. She was good to bug.

"Friend of yours?" asked Mac, curious as to how she was in the conversation.

"Yeah...tonic water..." explained Sam, passing one of the condensing glasses across to Mac who accepted it gratefully.

"Two tonic waters?" asked Mac flirtatiously, deciding the blush was very attractive on Sam, and also finding herself very curious to know just how far down the blonde's chest it ran.

"Yeah...for whoever finishes their drink first..." explained Sam, wondering if Mac would recognise the way out Sam was giving her. If Mac had been teasing Sam about the tonic chaser, Mac could drink her tonic quickly and claim the second. If she wasn't teasing....

"I'm a very slow drinker...it will be too warm to drink by the time I've finished this one..." declared Mac huskily, taking a coy sip of her drink.

"That's a relief...I don't like rum..." explained Sam, pushing her mai tai to the far end of the table, out of their immediate sight.

"So why'd you get it?" asked Mac, all flirtation forgotten as she was overtaken by genuine curiosity.

"I promised you a cocktail umbrella..." murmured Sam, her smile revealing the hints of flyboy cockiness that Mac so often found repulsive in others but now, sitting watching Colonel Carter carefully dip the end of the cocktail stick in her own tonic to ensure it didn't have any rum on it before offering it to Mac, Mac found it charming and sexy...

"Thank you...but that wasn't all you promised..." the curiosity satisfied, it was time to flirt again.

"No...you're right..." agreed Sam, gesturing towards the menus which were propped up in the corner of the table.

"Hungry?" she asked, recalling their earlier flirtation when 'clearance' had been offered in exchange for dinner.

"Starving..." agreed Mac, grabbing the menu, before saying casually, "...but I already know what I'm having for dessert..." It was a simple comment, delivered in the same tone of voice Mac used when speaking in court, perfectly serious and sensible...

"You do?" asked Sam, wondering what had caught Mac's eye on the menu, having not had a second to notice anything yet.

"Zoomie..."


	11. Hawaii - Samantha Carter [pt3]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lobster and Chocolate

"Has anyone ever told you you eat a lot?" asked Mac conversationally, as they strolled away from the bar, stomachs pleasantly full of surprisingly good steaks.

"This from the Marine who ate the 12 ounce steak AND the half lobster?" clarified Sam, unable to stop her amusement showing. Admittedly, she'd eaten every scrap of her steak and fries, including the extra onion rings she'd stolen from Mac's plate when she wasn't looking like eating them, but at least the Air Force Colonel had only ordered 'turf', unlike her companion...

"So I'm a Marine now?" teased Mac, their pace slowing as they reached the kerb. It was still early in the evening and the weather was lovely.

"You are always a Marine..." observed Sam politely, not seeing the problem with either her statement or her companion's observation.

"Forget it..." dismissed Mac abruptly, crossing her arms against her chest in a gesture that, if it weren't for the 80 degree heat, could have been dismissed as an attempt to get warm.

"Ah..." Flustered, Sam didn't quite know what to do...or what the problem was, but she was smart enough to recognise that she'd screwed up... "I'm a science geek who wears military fatigues most of the time..." she began, rubbing her fingers through her already spiky short hair, making her look even more like an electrocuted porcupine than Mac's initial impression had been.

"What's that got to do with anything?" asked Mac, surprised by the topic change, but also by something she hadn't previously seen in the tall Air Force Colonel - awkwardness.

"Neither social group is well known for its social skills..." began Sam nervously, biting her bottom lip in a gesture that suddenly struck Mac as being completely adorable.

"And I went all JAG bitch on you..." admitted Mac, understanding why Sam was beginning to start apologising for something her face clearly said she had no clue about, other than she'd apparently screwed up.

"You did?"

"Yeah..." As the silence stretched between them, Sam suddenly noticed where they were for the first time.

"This is probably a really bad place to discover we suck at this..." she observed wryly, scanning the area for some hint or clue about what she could do to fix it. Heading to a bar did not seem like a sensible plan, although seeing if she could teach Mac to play pool could be fun....

"....ice-cream?"

"What?" Startled, Sam realised she'd got lost in her thoughts as her brain had run seriously ahead of the rest of the universe and started revelling in the thoughts of teaching her brunette companion how to hustle a table...for all Sam knew, Mac could probably hustle Sam out of the hall....

Deciding, from the rather attractive blush that was now staining Sam's cheeks, that calling her on her inattention probably wasn't sensible to do right now, Mac merely repeated her question.

"How about we head to the beach, maybe get some ice-cream?"

"Where's the beach?" asked Sam, not really knowing this town at all well.

"End of that bus route..." explained Mac, gesturing to a bus that had just pulled out of the nearby bus stop.

"Just missed one..." Disappointed, Sam headed to the stand to see if there was a timetable or something.

"Was that the last bus?" asked Mac, coming and standing next to her, close enough that Sam thought she felt the words in her ear, rather than heard them.

"Nope...seems they run til Midnight, but the next one's not for 10 minutes..."

"Guess we wait then..." observed Mac practically, sitting down on the bench, glad that Sam seemed keen to keep their evening going off base.

"Or we could go and buy ice-cream..." suggested Sam, spotting what looked like an ice-cream parlour a couple of shops up on the other side of the road.

"We've got 7 minutes until the bus is due..." declared Mac, setting off at speed, forcing Sam to sprint to catch up with her, all the while making mental notes - never, ever, come between this devastatingly sexy Marine and a potential food source!

 

* * *

 

"I thought you were keeping track of time?" asked Sam, slightly out of breath due to running and laughing at the same time.

"The bus isn't due for another 2 minutes..." defended Mac, taking a seductive lick of her chocolate ice-cream cone.

"Evidence suggests otherwise..." teased Sam, taking a more restrained lick of her own mint cone. They didn't seem to have made a blue jello flavour ice cream yet.

"Wasn't my fault it was early..." teased Mac, holding onto the roof rail tighter as their bus swung around the corner into the road down to the beach. Unfortunately, whilst she navigated the corner successfully, she didn't get the pot holes right.

"You've got ice-cream on your nose..." observed Sam, amused. As they'd hit the pot hole, Mac had been ready to take another long, languid lick of her cone. Instead, the bus had jostled her and she'd ended up with a blob of creamy chocolate coldness coating the tip of her nose.

"Never been able to lick the tip of my own nose..." whispered Mac sexily, wondering how far she could dare the Air Force Colonel. The ribbons on the dress uniform had indicated guts, but this was potentially playing with a whole new kind of fire...for both of them.

"END OF THE LINE, ALL CHANGE" The Driver's yell broke the mood, diffusing the rising heat between them as they both were caught up in the massed exodus from the bus that put them almost on the sands of the beach, Mac's ice-cream covered nose forgotten.

"Wow...." declared Mac, taking in the long curving beach that disappeared into the distance, meeting the horizon that was beginning to be stained by sunset.

"Yeah...fancy walking?" asked Sam, gesturing to the sand with her ice-cream cone, feeling glad that whatever had gone wrong between them seemed to have passed.

"Sure..." agreed Mac, taking another lick of her cone, glad that Sam seemed as keen as she was not to end their evening just yet.

Suddenly, without Mac really noticing or realising, Sam's face was millimetres from her own. Grinning wolfishly, Sam pressed a brief kiss to Mac's nose and then, as rapidly as she'd appeared, she retreated.

"What was that for?"

"You said you couldn't lick your own nose..." observed Sam, amused that Mac had forgotten about the ice-cream.

"That wasn't a lick..."

"You did say I could kiss you if I drank tonic..."

"Wrong sort of kiss..."

"Ah..." Bemused, Sam stood and watched the setting sun reflected in Mac's eyes, reading the emotions she was seeing there. Feeling full of a confidence she'd never thought she'd feel again, she once more inched her head forwards, before pressing a tender kiss on Mac's lips which, unsurprisingly, tasted of chocolate and lobster. Sensing the blonde had her reasons for her sudden uncertainty, Mac resisted the urge to pull Sam's head down for another, more passionate and consuming kiss, recognising that patience was perhaps the way to reap reward.

"Lobster...doesn't really go with chocolate..." declared Sam finally, noting that, at some point during her tentative kiss, her hand had found Mac's. To her amazement and delight, it didn't feel 'wrong' there either.

"I should have asked if you ate seafood..." realised Mac belatedly, also discovering their joined hands and deciding it felt 'right'.

"I do....but not with chocolate..." clarified Sam, grinning shyly, glad her kiss seemed to have gone down well.

"Ah..." At an unusual loss for words, Mac found herself suddenly craving a long walk along the beach, holding Sam's hand.

"Walk with me?" she finally asked, pointing towards the sandy horizon with their joined hands.

"Love to..."


	12. Hawaii - Samantha Carter [pt 4]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTES I'm making an assumption about astronomy here...can we please just go with what I've written and not become NASA scholars about my imagined night sky over Hawaii or the times of the tides? Thank you....

"The stars are beautiful..." observed Mac, looking up at the darkened sky in wonder as, away from the hustle of the boardwalk, as they strolled along, kicking now bare feet through the still warm sand along the high tide mark, the stars began to sparkle against the blackness of night.

"Hmm..." agreed Sam, her lack of a definite comment prompting Mac to turn to look at her companion.

"Is this where I discover that astrophysicists can't be romantic about twilight?" asked Mac, wondering if she'd inadvertently strayed into a bad topic, after all, she was supposed to be involved in a case involving telescopes...and treason...

"No, it's where you discover that this astrophysicist wasn't paying attention..." confessed Sam meekly, deciding honesty was the only way forwards.

"Ah...can you appreciate the beauty of the night sky? Or is it work to you?" rephrased Mac, genuinely curious about the answer from a factual perspective rather than a romantic one.

"I love the stars..." enthused Sam, throwing her head back and grinning with genuine delight as, to her experienced eye, the heavens revealed their full and complex glory with every constellation instantly recognisable, like an old friend.

"And can tell me all of their names, I bet..." retorted Mac sarcastically but in good humour as she found herself swept up in the Colonel's enthusiasm.

"Sure...see the one to the left of the really, really bright one?" asked Sam, pointing up with her hand that wasn't holding Mac's.

"Yes..."

"That's Fred."

The decisive way in which Sam Carter, highly decorated Air Force Colonel, pilot and military expert on astrophysics declared, with a completely serious face and in exactly the same tone of voice Mac could imagine her blonde friend delivering a report to the President, caused the Marine to come to a grinding halt, partly from shock and partly due to the hysterical laughter that soon crept up on her...

"Fred?" she wheezed, when she'd finally managed to draw a breath without immediate fear of hiccups or hysteria.

"You don't think it looks like a Fred?" asked Sam, pouting slightly, although, even in the twilight, Mac was sure she could see those blue eyes sparkling with mischief, which only served to set Mac laughing more.

"Barney better?" suggested Sam, enjoying the rich sound of Mac's laughter mingling with the faint sound of the gentle waves breaking against the sand behind them.

"No...."

"Yogi?"

As Mac's laughter began lost between the deep gasps for breath, she finally choked out a strangled plea of

"Mercy...?” when the laughter had become to much for her. Recognising the real distress Mac was in danger of getting herself into, Sam promptly sat down on the sand, spreading her legs so that Mac could sit between her bent knees, using Sam's chest as a supporting back rest.

"Breathe..." encouraged the blonde gently, resting her forearms on her knees, her hands loosely dangling in front of Mac, who obeyed the gentle command and fought to get her breathing back under control. As she focussed on her breathing, she absently reached for the long fingers dangling in front of her chest and started exploring their shape and flexibility with curious fingers of her own.

"Feel better?" asked Sam when, unable to see Mac's face, she heard the even cadence of normal breathing once more.

"Yes...Fred?" asked Mac, sure there was a story involved.

"Seemed sensible when I was four...."

"Ah...lots of stuff does when you're four..." agreed Mac. Now she was no longer worrying about oxygen, she was becoming far too aware of the heat radiating from her 'backrest' and how comfortable she felt, being enclosed in the loose embrace of another - something that rarely happened to the strong willed, independent woman.

"Yeah..." Once again disinterested in the conversation, finding herself far more interested in the elegant neck tantalisingly close to her lips, Sam's answer left Mac feeling dissatisfied intellectually, only to suddenly be completely forgotten about when she felt those lips that had earlier tasted of mint chocolate and steak trace a delicate line of kisses up her neck.

"Mmmm...." Once again, Sarah Mackenzie found herself star-gazing as she instinctively tipped her head back to encourage Sam's tender kissing of her neck. Unfortunately, the moment didn't last for her as the harsh yet quiet sound of the text message alert sounded from Sam's shorts, breaking the moment for Sarah, but not Sam.

"Your phone..."

"It's for you..." muttered Sam, straightening her left leg so that Mac could slide her hand into the pocket and extract the small cell phone, Sam herself far more interested in tasting the Marine's elegant collar bone which was just about accessible to her.

"You're sure?" asked Mac, the phone now in her hand.

"Uh huh...read it..." instructed Sam, nudging her companion with her knee by way of encouragement. Deciding she really couldn't protest any longer, and anyway, it seemed Sam wasn't going to resume those kisses until after she'd read the message, Mac obediently opened up the inbox.

**ONEILL PERS** read the caller name.

"O'Neill? Isn't he…?"

"My CO? Yes...open it..." coaxed Sam, wondering what Jack had said that meant he preferred to use his private cell phone to text her private cell phone, rather than a military one. Obedient, Mac opened up the message, so that she could read the small black letters on the illuminated screen.

**USMC JAG LtC = SGC clearance. USAF LtC - dont forget toothbrush.**

"Huh?" Mac was confused.

"You've got clearance for the SGC..." explained Sam, glad it was dark so that Mac couldn't see her inevitable blush.

"Where you work?"

"Yeah...it will help you understand how you can commit treason with a telescope..."

"Ah....toothbrush?" As much as she wanted to know about what Sam really did, Mac wasn't interested in work right now, and somehow, she didn't think the toothbrush had much to do about work.

"Too many nights on too many missions in too small a space with my CO and his weird sense of humour..." explained Sam cryptically, plucking the small, forgotten phone from Mac's fingers and slipping it back into her pocket.

"Morning breath?" asked Mac, not really believing that was what the message was about, but failing to come up with another reason for a toothbrush at this time of night.

"Uh huh..." Sam waited whilst the proverbial light clicked on in the lawyer's brain.

"Oh....OH!"

"Don't worry. He's kidding you know..." she explained hastily, worrying that Mac's surprise wasn't such a good thing.

"Good...I've always thought getting out of bed to brush your teeth before a morning kiss really spoils the mood..."

"Ah..." Mac's rather forward comment was now causing Sam to be stuck in wrong-footed yet delighted surprise. Sensing her companion's discomfort, and recalling the blonde's earlier comments about science geeks in military fatigues not being the most socially adept group, Mac snuggled back against Sam's inviting torso, asking,

"So, can you tell me what you do?"

"I can start....see the star up there?" began Sam, immediately much calmer and confident now she was back into familiar territory.

"Sam..." warned Mac, conscious her ribs were still aching.

"I'm serious...see the star up there, just next to that bright-ish one?" asked Sam, pointing out towards the star shining low above the horizon...

"What about it?"

"It's called Abydos...and it’s actually not a star at all..."

"It's a comet?"

"No, a planet...and a friend of mine used to live there..." and, with no one else within miles of them, the two Colonels sat sitting, legs and arms entwined, looking out across the Pacific at the universe before them as Samantha Carter gently and carefully began to explain to Sarah Mackenzie about the magic a life that was genuinely 'out of this world'....


	13. Hawaii - Samantha Carter [pt5]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm making an assumption about a certain Colonel's flying abilities here...can we please just go with what I've written and not become aviation experts please? Thank you, you're too kind...

"It's nearly midnight..." explained Mac reluctantly, when she could finally think of no more questions to ask her blonde companion. It was amazing - she spent her days asking questions and now, having been told that the most spectacular science fiction was actually reality, she'd run out of questions after just a couple, her brain unable just yet to properly interrogate what it had just learnt.

"Only nearly?" teased Sam, already comfortable with the idea that Mac could keep perfect time. Compared with some of the things she'd come across other people being able to do, that was a perfectly reasonable and useful skill.

"23:47..no, 23:48," corrected Mac, relaxing back against Sam's body, burrowing her bare feet even deeper into the sand.

"What time does the Base lock up?" asked Sam, not remembering being told that information.

"Umm, 0200 I think, but I doubt the gate will keep two Colonels out..." observed Mac practically, recalling the greeting they'd both had on arrival. It was a small, highly specialized Base with few visitors it seemed.

"True..." mused Sam, suddenly noticing that at some point earlier in the evening she'd slipped her fingers underneath Mac's clothes, so that they were resting on bare, warm skin.

"What's going to happen tomorrow?" asked Mac, suddenly curious.

"You mean the investigation?" clarified Sam, not sure she wanted to risk talking about 'them' yet. This wasn't the normal sort of 'posting romance' - in those circumstances, you generally didn't bother with much conversation once mutual interest and need had been established.

"Yes...all I know is I've been assigned the task of defense counsel..."

"That's a relief..." said Sam genuinely, wondering why she hadn't thought to ask earlier.

"It is?" asked Mac, curious as to why it mattered so much to the astrophysics expert - did it really matter which side she was on?

"If you were prosecuting I was going to really piss you off tomorrow..." admitted Sam honestly, chewing thoughtfully on her lip as her mind raced ahead to tomorrow morning.

"Oh?" Mac was intrigued...what could an expert witness possibly do to piss off Prosecuting Counsel, unless...

"You're getting the case pulled?" Mac answered her own question.

"Sort of..." agreed Sam, remembering the orders she'd been given by Jack 'Get that geek to this facility Carter' was a good summary.

"That would piss me off...if he wasn't my client..." agreed Mac, beginning now to understand why the most senior Marine Attorney (as the Base C.O. had flatteringly described her) was defending an 18 year old Private.

"Good thing you're defending then..." repeated Sam, tickling Mac's sides lightly, at least, that would be her excuse if the Marine Colonel objected to being 'stroked'.

"We should probably head back..." decided Mac reluctantly. Whilst it was increasingly sounding like her presence was to help Sam's cause and intimidate prosecution into dealing out, they probably couldn't sit on the beach all night...

"Yeah..." Mac's reluctance was shared by Sam.

"Sam?" asked Mac quietly, finally unable to ignore the question that was consuming her thinking.

"Hmm?" Sam's response was muffled by the light kisses she was scattering across Mac's neck and collarbone.

"What happens tomorrow?"

"What do you want to happen?" asked Sam, getting nervous and so retreating to a more comfortable place, one governed by reason and logic, rather than emotion.

"To not have to salute and head back to D.C. without knowing what's happening here..." admitted Mac honestly, wondering if Sam could no longer hear the waves crashing on the beach which, for Mac at least, were now being drowned out by the pounding of her heart.

"You have any leave due?" The question was asked quickly and entirely spontaneously as Sam suddenly remembered three things.

"I'm not in court until Wednesday...and tomorrow is Friday..." observed Mac quietly, wondering what Sam was building up to.

"Think we could postpone the salute and flight for a couple of days?" asked Sam nervously, wanting to kiss Mac some more, but settling for nervously chewing on her lip instead.

"Spend the weekend together?" asked Mac, her heart continuing to pound, but now in a much better way.

"Yeah...but not on base....."

"Where?"

"Umm, a beach house somewhere?" suggested Sam nervously, scrambling to her feet suddenly, causing Mac to fall backwards at the loss of her backrest, emitting a small shriek of surprise in the process.

"You alright?" asked Sam nervously, crouching down next to Mac's waist.

"Surprised...why'd you move?"

"Because I wanted to see your face..." admitted Sam shyly, glad that it was dark so that her intense blushes couldn't be seen.

"You're blushing..." guessed Mac, forgetting her shock as instead she reached out to cup Sam's face, causing Sam's blushing to deepen.

"Spend the weekend here? With me?" she asked, looking down at Mac, whose hair was spread out across the sand, catching in the moonlight.

"What would we do?" asked Mac, easing herself up into a sitting position, knowing that if she didn't, she was about thirty seconds away from pulling the Air Force Colonel down on top of her, which would not help their plans for trying to return to base before dawn.

"Walk...swim...fly..." As Sam began speculating, Mac's expression changed, altering how her eyes sparkled in the moonlight, causing Sam to quickly reevaluate her most recent suggestion, "...fly a kite...eat..." she continued, wondering if the Marine would call her on the original suggestion.

"Fly a kite?"

"Beaches are often the best places, and I saw some really good ones earlier..." She was neither bluffing nor lying - she had seen some really good kites for sale at the shop by the where they'd caught the bus...and a long sandy beach on a gloriously sunny day was the best way to fly a kite.

"Ah...I thought you said fly...." observed Mac, stroking her thumb across Sam's cheekbone, removing any criticism from the observation.

"I did...I mean...at least..." It probably wasn't a good idea to call a highly decorated Colonel 'cute', so Mac decided to stay silent and hope her smile wasn't too suspicious looking....

"Stop laughing at me..." protested Sam, breaking herself out of her stumbling when she noticed the change in Mac's face, mainly by how the moonlight cast shadows across her face.

"You're sweet...you wanted to go flying?" asked Mac kindly, willing herself not to get either nervous or disappointed. This was not a mission with Harm...this was a beach in Hawaii, and perhaps her vacation...

"I've not flown a seaplane..." confessed Sam, remembering one of the posters she'd seen on the bus, advertising seaplane trips to out of the way beaches.

"Are you qualified to?" As much as she normally hated random trips on planes were she knew the pilot, this was feeling different, very different.

"I'm not sure...."

"I've never been in a seaplane..." explained Mac, smiling at the idea. Even if Sam couldn't pilot them, it would be a lovely way to see some of the beaches....

"Wanna try?" asked Sam, cocking what she belatedly realized was her 'flyboy' grin, something that wasn't lost on Mac.

"I once said I was immune to flyboy charm..." admitted Mac, shuffling from a seated to kneeling position.

"Once?" asked Sam breathlessly, suddenly conscious that Mac's face was closer than it had been a second earlier.

"A long time ago..."

"You've changed your mind?"

"Yes...Tomcats don't do it for me..." explained Mac, naming the Navy Jet.

"What does?" asked Sam, catching herself seconds before she started trying to estimate how much closer Mac's face was than a second ago.

"Spaceships..." decided Mac, before brushing the softest of kisses across Sam's lips and pulling back,

"Spaceships?" asked Sam, slightly dazed.

"And seaplanes..." explained Mac, before leaning in and starting what both ladies would later recall as their first 'proper' kiss. What had previously been soft, light kisses tasting of lobster, steak and ice cream became something more intense, as passion fueled desire and hunger tasted of....

"Ugh..." spluttered Mac, parting suddenly when she could cope no longer.

"Sea salt..." agreed Sam, licking her lips with regret. They'd been on the beach for a few hours, facing into a pleasant onshore breeze which, they belatedly realized, had been blowing salt onto them, resulting in a kiss which had rapidly become too salty for either to tolerate, which was a shame, since kisses were meant to be enjoyed, not tolerated.

"Looks like we need that toothbrush..." observed Mac dryly, inwardly slightly relieved that kiss had stopped - it had just been too good, felt too right: it was the sort of kiss that she dreamed of and had never really found, until perhaps now.

"That means base quarters..." observed Sam practically, her breathing only now returning to normal.

"Yes..." As much as she knew it to be true, Mac didn't move.

"Sarah?" asked Sam suddenly, the name sounding strange to her as the breeze carried it to her companion.

"Yes?" So often the use of her first name felt cloying or smothering, with the user inferring an intimacy or level of acquaintance she wasn't prepared to share...but now it felt right, as comfortable as 'Mac' did.

"I'm going to take a step back...because tomorrow we have to salute and save the world..." admitted Sam bluntly, wondering how her comments would be interpreted.

"Once you've saved the world...." speculated Mac wistfully, unable to resist the half smile of amusement as she considered how accurate and appropriate that phrase really was, "...can I kiss you again?"

"Only if I can kiss you back..."

"Deal..." agreed Mac, before, with the same reluctance as Sam, taking a small but significant step back.

"It's midnight...." commented Mac as they took their first steps back along the beach, starting the walk back to the base.

"Cinderella must leave the Ball..."

"But she found her Prince the next day..." observed Mac, recalling the dreams of her childhood, when a Prince Charming would come and sweep her off her feet.

"And what about you Colonel?" asked Sam, hoping that her use of rank was understood - if she was to do her duty tomorrow, she needed to start finding her distance tonight.

"I'm not sure I want a Prince to find me tomorrow..." came the quiet admission.

"Who do you want to be found by tomorrow?" Sam resorted once more to the safety of logic and reason in an attempt to keep her emotions somewhere vaguely compatible with 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell'.

"A flyboy with lips that taste of mint chocolate and feet that have walked amongst the stars..." began Sarah wistfully, hoping Sam understood.

"I think that can be arranged..." agreed Sam, having to fight the urge to sweep Sarah up into another embrace, only to lick her own lips and be reminded how thirsty the salt was making her feel.

"Thank you..." As Mac nimbly scampered over the railings that divided the sidewalk from the beach, she added

"Oh, and Colonel?"

"Yes Colonel?" As she waited for the question, Sam made short work of the railings, her years of missions making a short fence an easy obstacle to vault.

"You still owe me a kiss...but I'll collect it later..." teased Mac, falling into step with the tall blonde once more.

"When later?"

"When you've got our kite flying at the end of its string, on a beach, which can only be reached by seaplane..."

"So we're booking leave?" asked Sam hopefully.

"We're booking leave..." confirmed Mac, looking forward now, for the first time since she'd landed in Hawaii, to rushing through her case - she had a vacation to enjoy.


	14. Hawaii - Samantha Carter [pt 6]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astronaut Ambition?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A necessary part to move from one part to the next...oh, and I'm still holding you to your promise in the last part not to turn into annoying aviation experts....

"Private?"

"Yes Ma'am?" The poor kid had been locked at Attention ever since his sentence had been announced. Did it make Mac an evil Marine to not think to order him to stand easy?

"Colonel Carter is going to ask you some questions - please remember she will know if you're lying and that what happens to you next will be dependant on your answers."

"Ma'am?" The kid was confused, but at least still respectful in his confusion.

"What Colonel Mackenzie means is that you're now under my Command Private," explained Sam kindly, smiling at the tense Marine, "...and you can decide, based on how you answer my questions, what your future career will be. At ease Marine..." she added, almost as an afterthought.

"Yes Ma'am..."

"Did you act alone?"

"Yes Ma'am..."

"Did you share your discoveries with anyone off Base?"

"No Ma'am..." So far, Sam's questions were ones that Mac had asked him when he was on the stand.

"Do you believe in, or place faith in a God beyond your scientific knowledge?" It was an oddly framed question, but one that served its purpose, as the kid blinked twice before answering.

"No Ma'am, I read the Bible but agree with Darwin and Hawking Ma'am," explained the Marine, hoping he wasn't sweating too profusely and hoping that, whatever the 'right' answers were, he was giving them.

"Ever wanted to be an astronaut?" It was a casual question, but one that provoked an interesting response - Mac didn't think she'd ever seen a Marine look as green as that before, at least, not without being in some sort of vehicle whilst under attack.

"No Ma'am."

"Why not?"

"I don't like to leave the ground Ma'am..." came the quiet admission, although, with hindsight, it made perfect sense for a Marine - most of the time, they stayed firmly on the ground.

"Right answer Marine...Packson?" called out Sam, knowing that the two Marines Jack had sent out from the SGC were lurking at the back of the improvised court room.

"Yes Colonel?"

"He's in...pack him up and ship him out?"

"Yes Ma'am..."

"That's it Ma'am?"

"That's it Private Mikes, you're working for me now."

"Yes Ma'am, thank you Ma'am."

"What time's transport Steve?" asked Sam, turning to the Marine Sergeant she knew quite well from the SGC gym.

"1400 Ma'am, we need to get a move on."

"Understood. Oh, could you give the General this please?" asked Sam, passing an envelop to him.

"Yes Ma'am."

"Don't look so worried Steve, it's just my leave request form..."

"Yes Ma'am."

"I'll see you at NORAD on Friday Mikes, in the meantime, Steve will look after you."

"Yes Ma'am, thank you Ma'am..." If he was doing the equivalent of 'Grunt Gushing' he didn't care - he was still alive.

 

* * *

 

 

"You didn't want him wanting to be an astronaut?" asked Mac curiously as they walked across the base towards their quarters, their vacation officially starting in 57 minutes.

"Not especially..." admitted Sam, returning a salute from an Air Force officer.

"But you wanted to be an astronaut..."

"Mikes is going to work in a lab, running simulations, making projections, analysing data...I'd prefer it if he had no desire to go further afield..."

"Ah.."

"You've got more questions now, haven't you?" asked Sam insightfully, wishing she could switch her briefcase to her other hand, but needing to keep an arm free for saluting.

"How could you tell?"

"Your brain is making noises..."

"It is not!"

"Actually, no, you're right...it's your stomach..." teased Sam, turning to grin at Mac before continuing seriously, "...how about you interrogate me this afternoon?"

"I don't interrogate!"

"Cross Examine then..."

"You've sorted everything?" asked Mac, wondering how Sam had managed to organise everything before the case had started at 0900.

"Yup...seaplane, food, beach hut...you sort your leave?"

"I'm not due back in Washington until Tuesday...." explained Mac, taking a salute from a Marine Captain and his men.

"Great!"

"You can fly the seaplane then?"

"Depends - they do lessons so the instructor's going to ride co-pilot with me whilst I go on a short flight - if I pass I can fly it, otherwise he'll drop us off..."

"How did you fix that?" asked Mac intrigued, but also glad they were at the entrance to their quarters. It was irritating being the highest ranking officers on base during lunch time - she didn't remember saluting as many times in a 400 yard walk since she'd left Boot Camp.

"Zoomie code - the instructor served under my Father..."

"Your father?"

"Ah, he was a General..." admitted Sam shyly, trying not to let Mac dwell on it - she really didn't like to mention her family connections unless forced to, at least, not unless they were dealing with the Tok'ra.

"Was?"

"Still is, sort of..." hedged Sam, remembering how much paperwork had to be done to return her father to the 'active but never posted anywhere' section of the USAF posting lists - if anyone tried to look too closely for him, he probably had a 'desk' somewhere in a shadowy bit of the Pentagon...but so far, no one had looked that hard.

"Sort of?" Mac wasn't easily distracted.

"Add it to your interrogation..."

"I don't interrogate!" protested Mac, stopping outside her door.

"You want to meet out front in 30 minutes?" suggested Sam, thankful of the opportunity to transfer her briefcase to her other hand - she'd had to bring a lot of paperwork 'just in case', although privately, she thought a Zat would have been easier.

"Sure...civvies?"

"Sounds like a plan...." There was an awkward pause, which, had their dress and location been civilian and discrete, would have been filled with a delicate kiss. As much as it frustrated Mac not to be able to follow through on the idea, she did at least derive some satisfaction and warmth from seeing exactly the same thought and frustration flash through Sam's blue eyes as she came to the same conclusion.

"29 minutes Colonel..."

"Yes Ma'am..." And, winking at the Marine, Sam executed a swift 'about face' on the heel of her regulation dress shoes and entered her room across the hall, an action mirrored by Mac...their vacation began in 28 minutes...and 27 of them couldn't pass quickly enough.


	15. Hawaii - Samantha Carter [pt 7]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In-flight Service

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still making an assumption about a certain Colonel's flying abilities here...can we please just go with what I've written and not become aviation experts please? If the liberties I've taken distress, try taking a deep breath and focus on the fact that it enabled me to do a spot of Harmon Rabb bashing *g* (with apologies if that offends anyone). Still with me? Thank you, you're too kind...

 

"How's your stomach?" asked Sam Carter as she jumped down from the pilot's seat of their rented seaplane, debating what the etiquette was for offering to help her companion down from the seat. A guy? Leave him alone; A girl she was trying to impress? Help her and maybe snatch a quick kiss; A Marine of equal rank and ‘kick-ass’ skill who just happened to be the sexiest Marine she'd ever seen? A serious moment of indecision....

"Not bad, considering I just broke one of my key rules..." explained Sarah 'Mac' Mackenzie, pondering the ground below her. How did she get out of this thing?

"Which one?" asked Sam, slightly nervous, mentally reviewing her own rules and spotting all the ones she was currently breaking.

"Never fly alone in a plane that's being piloted by someone I know..." mused Mac, breaking into a playful grin when she saw Sam appear from around the nose of the little plane.

"Ah, your partner..."

"He's a little..." Mac paused to consider how best to politely translate her distaste for her partner's flying, only for Sam to suggest,

"...too fond of ejections and crash landings?"

"The MiG in Russia..." began Mac, starting to recount all her 'rough landings' with Harmon Rabb Jr, only for Sam to interrupt again.

"Your partner's Rabb?"

"You know him?"

"We've met..." acknowledged Sam thoughtfully, before splashing though the shallow waves so she was standing next to the plane, one bare foot resting on the plane's float, hoping Mac wouldn’t ask her how she knew about the stolen MiG. It had caused all manner of issues when the SGC had been trying to stay pleasant with the Russians…

"In your galaxy hero role?" asked Mac, using her new nickname for Sam's career at the SGC. She'd lost count of the number of times Sam's stories last night had ended with her and her team saving the planet and, unlike many of the other times she'd sat and listened to fellow officers tell their heroic stories, Mac had been completely convinced Sam was neither embellishing or boasting about her exploits...she was just reporting what happened. It was a refreshing quality that only served to boost Mac's attraction to the blonde Colonel.

"No...it was years ago, we were both still flying full time......" admitted Sam, wondering why she'd brought it up.

"What was your call sign?" asked Mac, suddenly remembering a story Sturgis Turner had told her, about an inter-service Top Gun competition, in which 'Hammer' had been finally beaten by an Air Force pilot that they only knew as...

"Wormhole."

"You beat Harm?" asked Mac, impressed. Whilst her partner had managed to collect most of the Navy Top Gun records, he'd missed out on a fair few of the Inter-Service ones, with many being held by 'Wormhole', a call sign Harm had been less than complimentary about. Even before she’d known the pilot’s identity, Mac had always thought it to be a rather cool name, much better than ‘Hammer’…which, lets face it, didn’t fill your passenger with much confidence…

"Yeah..." Blushing, being embarrassed by all the attention she was receiving, Sam looked down at the waves and starting kicking water over the float, an action which served to remind Mac that she was still sitting in the co-pilot's seat.

"How do I get out of this thing?" asked Mac, refocusing Sam's attention.

"You can jump down onto the float..." began Sam, only for Mac to interrupt.

"Or?"

"Or I can help you..." suggested Sam shyly, wondering how this 'kick-ass whilst taking names' Marine would react to that.

"I like a chivalrous date..." answered Mac flirtatiously, reaching down and slipping off her shoes, deciding she liked Sam's idea of being barefoot on the beach. Grinning, Sam leant closer to the open cockpit and reached up to take Mac into her arms.

"Ready?"

"For what?"

"This..." said Sam, which was the only warning Mac got before she was being swept out of her seat by strong arms that then held her firmly against a lean and firm yet definitely female torso. Instinctively, she hooked her legs around Sam's waist, locking her ankles together.

"Ok?" she asked quickly, conscious that she wasn't as light as she could be.

"Perfect..." agreed Sam, resisting the urge to kiss the beautiful brunette just yet as, whilst she was strong and able to support Mac in this position, her recent experiences of kissing this Marine suggested that they should move away from the plane before she challenged her knees to withstand the onslaught triggered by Sarah Mackenzie's lips. Taking a determined step backwards, Sam moved them away from the plane and turned to start walking up the beach towards where she’d dumped the stuff they’d brought, only to stop when she saw the flash of disappointment cross Mac’s face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, suddenly concerned in case her friend was having a change of heart. As difficult as it was for Sam to navigate the shark infested waters that were the military’s ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ policy, she couldn’t begin to imagine how challenging that must be for Mac, given her position as the JAG’s Chief of Staff, charged with upholding those rules; at least Sam had the ability to make the case that her skills were truly unique…

“I was hoping for a kiss…” muttered Mac, feeling silly now she had to voice it. This whole booking of leave and flying to an isolated sandy beach was a level of spontaneity she normally didn’t venture to, and especially not when it involved a potential risk of charges…but there was something about Sam Carter that made her forget all of that…she just hoped to anyone who’d listen to her prayers that the feeling was mutual.

“Ah…and you’ll get one…” promised Sam, setting off striding through the shallow water again, not letting go of her precious cargo, if anything, pressing Mac tighter against her body, “…but not just yet….”

“You forget to use your toothbrush?” teased Mac, remembering the very strange text message she’d received from Sam’s CO the night before.

“Nope…” grinned Sam, before deliberately exhaling heavily in Mac’s face, assaulting her with a wave of minty fresh breath that proved she hadn’t forgotten to make very thorough use of her toothbrush. Mac wasn’t to know it was one of the more enjoyable orders she’d received from her long time friend and CO.

“So what’s the wait?” asked Mac, hoping her flirtatious tone concealed her insecurity.

“I don’t want to drop you…”

“I’m too heavy….”

“No…too sexy…”

“Huh?” Distracted from not being kissed, Mac’s eyes sparkled with amused confusion. She recognised it was a compliment, but wasn’t making the connection.

“I…” began Sam, before snatching a quick kiss from Mac, “…didn’t…” another kiss stolen, “….want…” this time it was Mac who snatched the kiss, recognising that now was not the moment for anything more intense than playful pecks, “…to drop…” continued Sam, hoping her slightly longer kiss might stop Mac from spotting Sam dropping to her knees, “…you…” finished Sam, before dipping her head and initiating what was definitely a ‘proper’ kiss, that left them both breathless and Mac lying on her back on the picnic rug, looking slightly dazed, her legs still locked around Sam’s waist.

“Ok?” asked Sam nervously, unable to stop a half grin of cocky satisfaction gracing her face – had she managed to make a JAG officer speechless?

“Mmm…” agreed Mac, releasing her legs and tangling her fingers in the short hairs at the nape of Sam’s neck, preparing to coax her back for another mind-numbing kiss, “…very ok…”


	16. Olivia Benson - Pennsylvania

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Slice of Lemon with your Cruiser Officer?"

"I'm going where Sir?"

"New York City Mac."

"Yes Sir..." Ever a good Marine, Mac knew that was the only way to answer the question. Still, just because she always had a 'sea-bag' packed in the trunk of the Corvette didn't mean it had to be used quite _this_ often....

"Lieutenant Roberts is routing your flights...you're going to be there tomorrow."

"Yes Sir..." Couldn't she just take the shuttle? It was far more comfortable...

"What do you know about citrus fruit Mac?" asked Admiral Chegwidden, leaning back in his chair.

"Lemon and Lime enhances a tonic water Sir?" ventured Mac, really not sure where this conversation was going.

"I suggest you inform Seamen Roberts and Jenkins of that when you see them."

"Yes Sir." There were moments Mac really hated her boss....

 

* * *

 

"Can I help you?" Serena Southerlyn was not having an especially good day, but, if facial expressions were anything to go by, she was having a better day than the Marine Officer standing stock still in the middle of the corridor.

"I'm sorry?" Mac hadn't been concentrating enough to decipher what had been said by the blonde, merely that she'd been spoken to.

"Can I help you? You look a little..." Serena paused as she tried to settle on a suitable word. She didn't think telling this highly decorated officer she seemed 'lost' was going to be a good plan.

"Out of place? Confused? Lost?" suggested Mac, despairing of her situation and deciding she'd best try seek some help. Battlefields in Bosnia she could navigate; the New York City Courthouse? She was done for....

"We don't see many Marines here..." admitted Serena, smiling shyly at the brunette who was gradually relaxing the rather austere formal facial expression she had been sporting and revealing rich brown eyes that sparkled with amusement at her situation. It really was funny, now Mac thought about it.

"Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, JAG Officer..." rattled off Mac, holding out her hand in greeting to the blonde, her eyes widening when she heard the lengthy title, "...but I'm normally called Mac..."

"Serena Southerlyn, New York ADA...JAG?"

"Lawyer for the Navy and Marine Corp..." translated Mac, appreciating the strong handshake, but also glad to have found a 'local' who would be familiar with the courthouse.

"Ah, the citrus fruit case?" guessed Serena, her own eyes sparkling with barely concealed mirth. As pranks went, everyone was privately agreeing, it had been a good one, and the arrogant Captain had deserved it. Unfortunately, in public, they had to be a little more serious.

"You know about it?" asked Mac, trying not to groan. She really hated it when her cases involved too many civilians, made it...messy.

"Only as an amused observer who's glad Captain Grounder was the butt of such a joke...my cases are homicides."

"I'm not allowed to be amused..." observed Mac, deliberately schooling her features when her inner clock reminded her of the time.

"A Marine Colonel thing?" speculated Serena, noticing the change in demeanor immediately.

"No, a defense attorney thing...the Colonel in me's hysterical..." admitted Mac, grinning fleetingly before becoming serious again. There was something about this blonde...

"I was actually going to watch the case..." admitted Serena shyly, nervous about how her admission would sound. She didn't want to seem like a groupie, but...

"Think you could show me the courtroom then? I imagine my clients are already there..." Smiling in agreement, Serena turned around and started leading Mac through the milling crowds towards her courtroom which, for the moment, was empty save for the bailiff supervising the two offending Seamen, who, judging by how he reacted, must have been ex-military.

"Your Colonel's here..." he said, trying not to grin as the two Seamen shared an identical look of 'oh, shit' before springing to their feet and standing at attention, even though Mac was still at the back of the room.

"They're doing that for you?" guessed Serena, impressed. On the rare occasions she'd defended, her clients had never behaved like that...

"Perk of being a Colonel..." shrugged Mac, smiling at Serena before pushing through the gate, determined to get to the bottom of this in about thirty seconds flat. As far as she could tell, the Seamen had only one defense - 'it was a harmless prank Ma'am'...

 

 

* * *

 

Fifteen minutes later, the case was concluded, with Mac managing to persuade the courts that, whilst the Seamen were guilty and worthy of penalty, the Navy could award that punishment far more effectively. It was the reason Mac had been sent up for the case, rather than the on-board JAG coming ashore. Rank, on occasion, did have its privileges, including, in this case, being able to put the fear of god into the Seamen and have the Judge convinced that a Navy hearing was the way forwards. Having dispatched the two Seamen into the custody of the waiting military police, Mac was ready to go back to her hotel and have a long soak in a hot bath. Today had been incredibly hard work for what felt like little reward.

"Are all your cases like that?" asked Serena, deciding that there was something about a woman in uniform, or rather, there was something about this woman in that uniform. Anyways, even without the uniform, she was a sucker for tall brunettes with nice legs...

"That entertaining? No..." admitted Mac, surprised but somehow pleased to know that the blonde had waited.

"I was actually going to say 'eloquently argued'..." corrected Serena, enjoying the half smile and faint blush that the compliment caused in her companion.

"Thank you..." Not being the greatest at accepting compliments, and unable to be able to resort to 'Thank you Sir', Mac trailed off, hoping Serena would lead the conversation somewhere new.

"Are you New York based?"

"No, Washington D.C."

"Aren’t there any military lawyers in New York?" asked Serena, genuinely curious.

"Yes, but the JAG wanted me to come...add some rank and position to the Navy's case..." explained Mac, feeling surprisingly relaxed about talking to Serena. There was just something about tall blondes with legs like that...

"Position?"

"Ah, I'm the JAG's Chief of Staff..."

"So that's what the Judge meant when he said he was reassured the Navy was taking this seriously?"

"Yeah...send an overworked lawyer who should be preparing for a murder trial when a green Lieutenant could have done it..." groused Mac, only just about good naturedly.

"Navy politics sounds as bad as ours..." sympathized Serena, disappointed to see that Mac had packed up all her papers. Thinking quickly she asked.

"So, are you having to head back now?" It was 5pm; the shuttle flight wouldn't be too bad...

"No, I've booked leave and am trying a long weekend..."

"Ah, sensible...shopping?" hazarded Serena, attempting to make the small talk last as long as possible. There was just something....

"Maybe...although right now I just need to relax..." The words were out of her mouth before she could think how they'd be interpreted...

"Dinner and a movie?" Fortunately, Serena's mouth was also running ahead of her brain.

"Is this a date?" asked Mac quietly, smiling at the idea.

"Would it matter if I said yes?"

"Yes..." As Mac paused to shoulder her bag, Serena's face fell as she anticipated the rejection.

"...I'm much more likely to enjoy myself if I've got out of this uniform..."

"Ah..." Happily surprised, Serena wasn't entirely sure what else to say.

"This dinner and a movie you've got planned..." teased Mac, knowing full well it was an entirely spontaneous impulse from her new friend, "...can it be combined with my hotel room at the Marriot?"

"Your hotel room?" spluttered Serena, hoping her face didn't reveal her suddenly pounding heart and inner tingling...

"Sure...to change...." began Mac, wondering what else Serena had thought, before suddenly realizing and finding herself liking the idea immediately. Noticing that there was no one left in the courtroom but the two of them, she pushed through the gate before saying casually

"Of course, room service's 24 hours...and I'm sure there's a movie on TV..."


End file.
